


Following in the Path of Blood

by CelticGHardy



Series: Family Path of Blood [1]
Category: The Following
Genre: AU, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticGHardy/pseuds/CelticGHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU retelling of the first season with two crucial differences. Ryan Hardy and Debra Parker met in 1985, and had a son, Michael Emerson Weston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, after the events of 1x12, everyone started saying that Ryan was the Dad, Parker was the Mom and Mike was their kid.
> 
> I actually wanted to write that.
> 
> Messing with birthdates, Ryan was born in 1966 (no messing there). Debra, I placed in 1967 so there's not a huge gap in years (the actress was born in 1975, so hopefully it's not too big of an insult). Mike, I have born in 1986 so he's around 27/28. I figured if he got into the FBI directly on his birthday, completed the training and while doing security worked on applying to the BAU, that would make him fairly young when he joined and wouldn't be too off in reality. ~~Like reality works here but...~~
> 
> I don't own the recognizable dialogue (or anything from the Following), but I'm using it in combination with made up lines that would fit better. Also, this means updating is going to be a few days long. I wait on Hulu and I don't download.
> 
> The title's also a double meaning. Blood refers to the murders Joe's committing and Mike following Ryan and Debra into law enforcement.
> 
> ....I feel like there's something I'm forgetting. I'll figure it out later.

Ryan Hardy was already wishing he was back in his Brooklyn apartment. Going through all of Joe's items brought back memories of the knife in his heart, of Sarah scared and in pain. Turner was expecting him to be the same man he was back in 2003. Agents Mason and Riley already saw him as a drunk and they were wondering what exactly he could bring to the investigation on Joe.

The gathering of agents, marshals and anyone else that needed to become knowledgeable in Joe Carroll was a dozen or so. He wondered who was leading the lecture, some profiler from the BAU, or a probie that was barely there for the investigation. The voice of the speaker almost made him stop. He hadn't heard that voice in life since 2003, in the hospital after his emergency surgery. _God, what the hell is he doing here?_

The person leading the group had shorter hair than he remembered, and flattened down. The jacket and casual clothes were nothing he recognized, but the badge around his neck reminded him of an old conversation that had ended in anger. It was almost karmic retribution; he went into the FBI and had done his thesis on Joe Carroll. He wondered if anyone listening knew the connection between the two.

He stood at the back of the group, not wanting any of the attention. The lecturer went through the background information, turning every now and then to the group. There was no way he could have missed him. “This triggered his piquerism, the act of stabbing, slicing flesh for arousal,” he misled.

Ryan knew he did it purposely. He didn't know if he knew what Turner, Mason and Riley were thinking about him. He wanted him to correct, which he had to otherwise people were going to get wrong ideas. “No, that's not accurate,” he grumbled.

“I'm sorry,” he challenged, “Would you like to say something, sir? By all means, please, if I got it wrong, correct me.” He then brought up the dust jacket of Ryan's book. “Ryan Hardy.”

Everyone was waiting for him to respond. Of course they were. They were wondering what could the former FBI agent could bring when they had someone that had all the same facts, reports and everything else he must have had his hands on when he wrote his thesis on Carroll. “Joe Carroll was obsessed with the romantic period. His lectures consisted of Thoreau, Emerson, in particular his hero Edgar Allen Poe,” he retorted, throwing his bag on a chair and moving toward the screen. The pictures of his victims were large, blood splatters shone brighter than they did in life.

“And like Poe, he believed in the insanity of art. That it had to be felt. He didn't just eviscerate fourteen female students. He was making art.” Now he was in front of everyone, and their former lecturer was smirking. _Damn wiseass kid._ “He cut out the eyes as a nod to his favorite works of Poe, the Tell-Tale Heart and The Black Cat. See, Poe believed the eyes are our identity, windows to our soul. To classify him as a piquerist would be to simplistic.”

Their former lecturer thanked them for listening before everyone scattered. He was looking over the photos again when he came back up. “Mike Weston,” he introduced himself, “I did my thesis on Joe Carroll at the academy. Your book was invaluable.” _Hi, Dad, how are you? Guess you can figure out the reason why I didn't call more. Yes, I did my thesis on Joe Carroll; it got me into the BAU and I used the book you sent._

“Hardy,” Mason called.

He walked over to the woman, but was still close enough to hear Riley call Mike pathetic. “He is a hero,” he defended, “Took down Joe Carroll single-handed.”

“And the Bureau still let him go,” he mentioned.

_Mike, shut up. Please shut up._ “Didn't you read the book?” he countered. Thankfully, he had moved beyond their conversation and was moving along with Mason.

He looked out to the room where there were a bunch of people just sitting. He focused on the woman that wasn't doing anything except stare forward. “Who are the women?” he asked.

“Carroll's groupies,” she answered, “We're interviewing anyone that visited Carroll in prison.”

He turned when he heard Mike walk up. “Carroll had one hundred and twelve visitors in the last two years,” he reported. Ryan looked at the tablet in his hand and repressed the urge to comment. “Forty three in the last six months, fourteen visited over four times.”

“Who had the most access to him?” he questioned, “Was he confined to his cell? Did he have any privileges?”

“Most of his time was spent preparing on his third appeal,” he told him, looking down and playing with information. Ryan noticed among the other apps was a couple of games. _On a work item? Mike._

Riley added, “He'd foregone legal aid and was representing himself.” He handed over a large stack of files that he called 'His records.'

“So, he had access to a legal library?”

“Yeah, every Tuesday, Carroll was shackled and transported to the Sussex county law library where he was confined to a sealed room with one guard,” Mike mentioned.

“And furnished with law books.”

“Actual books or digital files?”

“Digital, everything's archived on their server.”

“So, he had internet access,” he concluded. Mason told him it would have been restricted. “Because that would stop Joe Carroll?”

That pushed Mason and Mike to start ordering things to the people about the Sussex server. Among the heightened noise, there was a quick ping that the woman he had focused on bent down and pulled out a cell phone. She placed it back and walked out into the middle of the area where no one was. She bent down and grabbed the ice pick out of her purse before unbuttoning her dress.

Everyone started talking as her written skin was shown to them. And several screamed when the ice pick became visible. That alerted the group to rush out and confront her. The man in the green shirt wanted her to drop the weapon, but she wasn't going to do that. Then she saw Ryan Hardy run out. “Ma'am, ma'am, look at me. Look at me. You don't want to do this, okay?” he reasoned, “Just hand that to me and everything's going to be okay.”

“Lord help my poor soul,” she quaked.

“No.”

“Lord help my poor soul,” she repeated, stabbing herself in the eye. The screaming erupted and there was chaos as the women all scrambled away.

Everyone helped move the other witnesses to other rooms and sealed off the crime scene before Ryan came back after a trip to the bathroom. He had noticed Riley taking a small breather, but Mike had apparently pushed down his reactions to over the body. He looked over the words and pointed, “She's right-handed, and did most of the writing herself, but her back and right side had to have been done by someone else. Carroll, possibly; we're analyzing it for a match.” He realized that he wasn't paying attention and looked up to see him watching someone bring him a bag that he hadn't seen in years. “Once upon a midnight dreary,” he read, “The Raven.” When he saw the bottle, he looked at the floor for a minute, disappointed. He made sure to keep his head down when Ryan turned back around. “Everything written is Poe and her last words...”

“Were Poe's,” Ryan finished.

“Lost and delirious in the streets,” he muttered, walking over. Ryan figured he knew that the bottle wasn't water. He did not, however, comment too much on it as he routed around in his jacket for a tin of breath mints and handing it over to him. “You're lucky Mom's not here,” he muttered.

“At least I don't have to worry about running into her if this is just Joe and a few others,” he grumbled, taking a couple and chewing them. Both saw Mason and Riley walk over and the tin went back in his pocket.

“We've run her fingerprints,” Mason told them, “So far, we've found at least seven identities, four of which are wanted in three states and two of which visited Carroll repeatedly in the last six months.”

“Cell phone?” Ryan asked.

“Disposable. The text said, 'Do it now.'”

Mike butted in. “Well, Carroll could easily convince an unbalanced brain to do this. It's an exertion of power, theatrics.”

Mason's phone went off and he stopped while she checked whatever was on it. “I have Sarah Fuller for you,” she said. 

He accepted the phone. “Hello?”

“Mr. Hardy, it's been a long time,” a female voice ringed through the other end.

“Sarah, hi, how you doing?” He walked off. Mason moved over to a crime scene tech. Mike stayed around the same area, looking down at the woman and turning back up at him. When they kept talking, Riley pulled him back into the makeshift office area, where there was a computer that had access to Sussex. He began running searches for the IPs and couldn't get a hold of one for long enough before it changed.

Ryan joined them after passing the phone back to Mason and the three of them hovered around him, waiting for new information. “Carroll never visited the same web address twice,” he started, “Which suggests he's using various urls.”

“Who with?” she asked.

“That's the rub. Every time I access an IP address, it mutates,” he mildly complained, “This is a fairly sophisticated virus.”

Ryan inquired, “Where were the guards when he was sitting there, chatting online? Who are these idiots?”

Riley searched through the files before pulling one out and showing it. “The detail changed, but there's one recurring name,” he said, “Jordan Raines.”

“Jordan 'Jordy' Raines,” he read.

Mike searched for the data file. “I got it.” He brought it up.

“Thirty-two, four year employee, death row. Works the night shift.”

“Was he working last night?” she insisted.

He rifled through the papers. “Called in sick,” he informed. He heard Mike hold in a snort. He ignored him. “That's him.”

“Prison guard.”

“He helped Carroll escape.” Mike was already writing down the man's address and handing it to him while answering Mason.

The house set him on edge just by the outside. After the team cleared it out, he just looked around at the general clutter, stopping in front of a collage of missing dog posters. Mike had taken the computer and heard a home video playing. He caught their attention and they watched him play with a small puppy.

Turner walked in and they all looked over when he began talking. “You're going to want to see this.” They followed him into a closed off area. Once the door was open, decaying flesh and bad blood was smelt, and they covered before moving forward.

Ryan noted that there were several black trash bags. He figured Jordy's passion and grimaced, “Bags, man.”

Mike had stuck close to him and followed him to the table. “What is that?” he asked.

“It's a German Sheppard,” he told him, getting a closer look, “I think.” He must have breathed on it or loudly, because it started fighting against the chains holding it down, scaring the three back. On instinct, he forced Mike back, who had been closer than he remembered. He hoped it would be unnoticed or written off. “Carroll was teaching him how to become a serial killer,” he realized.

The three of them were ushered out by animal services. Mason went to the man's bedroom while Ryan went back to the living room. Mike disappeared before showing up again with new gloves, chewing his own mints. He heard the slight muttering of 'I hate dead dogs' when he started looking around the posters. He pulled out a book and moved over to stand next to him.

“How's...” he tried asking, before realizing he couldn't remember.

“Drake,” he finished, “He's fine; I had to leave him with my neighbor.” He noticed the book. “What's that?”

“Joe's book,” he said, flipping through it, “Oh, look, it's inscribed.” The two of them read it to themselves.

“So, Jordy's lonely, unstable. Carroll gives him a few nice words,” Mike started, grabbing a box and picking it up to go through it.

“Joe recognizes his potential and seduces him,” he added.

“He's emulating,” he figured, “The animals, he removed their eyes.”

“Jordy looks to Carroll the way Joe looks to Poe. Godlike.” _Cult-like. Fuck, I hope she isn't brought in. Please tell me I'm wrong. I hope I'm wrong._

“Is Carroll really that powerful?” he questioned.

“When I first went after Carroll, I only had instinct,” he described, “No evidence. I had a hard time convincing people of the theory on Poe.”

“That's when you started following him,” he stated.

“Everywhere, waiting for him to get sloppy. That's how I recognized Sarah, from his classes. I used to sit in his classes and watch him teach. He had a gift for inspiring people.”

Mason walked back to them. “Hardy, let's go.”

“Where?”

“It's time you talked to Claire Matthews.”

-

The next time he saw Mike was outside Sarah's house. He pointed out the house, if it wasn't noticeable by the amount of people coming and going through it. The lead detective introduced himself and they walked in. Pointing out the officers that kept watch, Ryan followed the lead detective while Mike stayed downstairs.

When he went through the secret passage, he was more focused on the blood trail and not the fact he had been joined by Riley and Mike. His yelling for the lights at least frightened the detectives (he barely saw Mike but the amount of _fear_ on his face when he yelled...), but they knew why once the blood-written word shone. He was angry; Carroll had planned this.

Everyone started looking up information on the neighbors. He was still fuming, and Turner stayed back while he read an officer's recording of them leaving over half an hour ago.

“No one thought to check the vehicle?”

“There was no reason to check; she wasn't missing at the time.”

Mike came up with more information on the two. “Will Wilson teaches public school, second grade. Billy Thomas is a computer tech. He runs the fraud division of a regional bank.” He sounded in disbelief over the last part.

“Yeah, and I bet they weren't gay either,” he droned, “Carroll placed them here to watch over her until he was ready.”

Mike wasn't the only one disbelieving. “Come on, they've been her neighbors for three years,” Riley pointed out.

“She'd never suspect them,” he argued, “And now they're taking her straight to Carroll.” He walked toward the garage, now lit with spotlights to see the deceased officer that never stood a chance. “He's finding people to help him do it on the damn internet. It's... it's like they're his followers.”

Turner interrupted, “I'm not buying two men would pretend to be gay and shack up next to a woman because some nut job told them to.”

“Prison guard worships him,” he countered, “Ice pick lady is brainwashed to kill herself. These two guys have dedicated years of their lives to him. There's some kind of fanatical obsession at play here. It's like it's a cult. It's...” Mike's face was still in disbelief, but it wasn't over the people. _He_ had mentioned cult. He ignored the bad thoughts for going back to the wall. “Nevermore. The Raven. Poe is symbolizing the finality of death.”

Now he moved back with an urgency. “Have you pulled the GPS? Where are the satellites?”

Turner smiled, and it pissed him off. “I knew you would show up eventually.”

“Do something.”

“This is the Hardy I remember.” The two of them fell into arguing before Mason broke in between them. He caught a brief glance of Mike, who was staring at him. Still angry, he walked off and into an alley where no one would be watching. He threw a chair and kicked things before leaning on something, breathing heavily. 

Mike had never seen him angry. If there was something that both of them agreed on, it was they would never do anything in front of him that they didn't want him seeing. No fighting, nothing from work, no bad habits. Now that he was working with the FBI and this mess with Carroll, he was going to see more that he would have never shown to him. He would also see things about Mike that he would care never to learn if possible.

Back to a more calm (never completely calm, not in a very long time) place, he walked back to the men's house, which was being combed through. Everyone ignored him for doing their jobs, trying to find some hint of where they were going. He looked around and focused on a picture of the two of them standing in front of a lighthouse sign. “Hey, what do you got?” he asked Mike, who walked in with his tablet.

“Well, both men were listed in the visitor's log,” he informed.

“You got a file on these guys?”

He checked, “Nothing except for some property records in Lake Whitehurst.” Sensing no more questions, he moved over to someone else. Ryan stared at the photo more before looking up lighthouse in connection to Lake Whitehurst. Nobody followed him out as he took one of the SUVs.

-

Joe was surrendering. He was surrendering under his hands, but he wasn't going to let go. The anger at him, losing Sarah Fuller, being played so damn well, he lost most of the rational thoughts. He barely registered people rushing in and Mason calling out for him to stop. _Mason's here. It means Mike's here._ He could barely tell himself to stop, even with his son in the room. Riley grabbed him and dragged him back away from the man.

Ryan expected Mike to be staring at him. He almost killed someone right in front of him. Instead, he was watching Joe, determination on his face. He had to calm down again as Mason arrested the man and took him down, Mike and Riley, after letting him go, following behind. 

When he was finally able to talk to Mike by himself, after arresting Joe, being informed on the large online presence he created and 'talking' to Joe again, it was in the little room that he had been assembling the white board. Riley had gone for the night, but he stayed behind going through more and more paperwork. “Hey,” he muttered, getting his attention.

He turned up, tired and starting to show it. “Hi,” he returned.

He sat down in the closest chair he could find. “Look, the further we get into Joe's games, the more bad stuff you're going to see of me,” he said.

“You mean the attempted murder of Carroll and breaking his fingers? Or fighting with Turner?” he questioned, “Drinking while on the job?”

“Hey, I'm not on the job. I'm just a consultant for you guys,” he protested.

He smirked. “Sure didn't sound like it, ordering people around.”

“Wiseass kid,” he murmured.

“And as Mom would say, where do you think I got that from?”

He smiled ruefully. “Just, going after Carroll's help, more of it is going to come out. I thought I was done, but he's not. You're going to see things that you never thought me being capable of; I'm warning you now. All right?”

He nodded, “Yeah, got it.”

He sighed, “All right. Now stop doing the paperwork and leave it for your supposed partner to finish in the morning.” Mike rolled his eyes, but didn't stop as Ryan walked out of the room to get some sleep himself.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan wishes he hadn't mentioned cults.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with the dialogue. It may seem a bit OOC, but remember, Debra and Ryan were together at one point. So they would be more like exes, knowing a lot of the best and worst about each other. And now they're working together.

Before he even exited the center, Mike hurried to catch up with him. “Joey Matthews is missing, so is his nanny,” he reported. Ryan went to his own car, almost half expecting Mike to join him. He shook his head. “I need to pick up Troy.”

Both arrived at the same time, even with the delay. He rushed in first, concerned for Claire. A child missing was something he understood. “Why is Joe doing this?” she immediately asked when they were in the room alone (as they could be with all the agents and officers walking around). “I don't understand how Denise is involved. Are they going to hurt Joey?”

 _No, they're not going to hurt Joey; he's the son of their 'God.'_ “I think she's your nanny because of Joey. I think he put her here-” he explained.

“No, that's impossible,” she denied, “She's been Joey's nanny for two years. She lives with me; I know her.”

“The accomplices, the guys that helped him kill Sarah Fuller, they were there for years,” he told her, “Using false identities. We think she did, too.”

She still didn't believe it. “I did a background check,” she argued, “I checked her references; I have records.”

“Can I see them?” She nodded and went to get them.

Mike popped his head in and informed, “Heavy traces of zolpidem on the kitchen counter. She drugged the guards.”

“I bet Joey, too.”

“Carried him down the back staircase to the garage,” he added, “Car was found ten minutes ago in a parking lot forty-five minutes from here.”

 _They changed vehicles. Shit._ He caught up to Claire just as she got the papers out. “Denise Harris, from Alexandria. Her address, her references, it's all there.” She sighed, “She talked about her Mom a lot. I guess they were close. No Dad in the picture.”

“You ever meet any of her friends or overhear a phone conversation?”

“Her friends never came over. She was shy; she kept to herself. She read in her room a lot.” She wiped at her eyes, the formation of tears starting again. “I can't be this blind, can I?”

“Hey, you cannot afford to think like that, do you understand?” he reassured, “Look, I know exactly what you're going through. Joey's missing; you're worried that things will happen.”

_“Dad, I don't know what's going on. What does this guy want? Dad?”_

“They're not going to hurt him. We'll get him back safe.”

She looked right at him, worry still there along with a very small bit of hope. “Find my son.”

-

The small room that Mike and Riley had set up before was moved across to a conference type room where several people were now set up. Mike pointed out the three main areas, “Okay, the team over there's covering the ground search. That group is on our prison guard, Jordy, and we've got Joey's search right here.” He walked over to a woman and sat down next to her. “Ryan, this is Agent Mitchell, cyberforensics. She's from our D.C. Office; she's awesome.”

The last bit was amusing. _She's awesome? Do you got a crush on her, Mike?_   “Nice to meet you, sir,” she said, going back to the screen.

“Where are we on the nanny?”

“I know Denise Harris is not from Alexandria, because Denise Harris does not exist,” she informed.

He tacked on, “But, we've IDed Sarah Fuller's gay, or not so gay, neighbors. Real names are Jacob Wells and Paul Torres.”

“Jacob is from Lake Whitehurst; Paul is from El Paso, Texas.”

“Where he's a computer consultant with a history of fraud, which explains all the fake IDs,” he finished.

“Where's Agent Mason?” he asked. Mike tried to get his face to go blank, but he looked over at Mitchell with trepidation before pointing to what had been their small little gathering space.

Ryan walked across and heard Turner wanting him off the case. Riley probably agreed with him, but knew that Carroll wanted him there. If Carroll's plans included Ryan, then they would need him around. He managed to get to the door and silence them both. Then he saw Debra, sitting on the desk watching the two of them before turning to see him. _I had to mention cults._

“Well, this is awkward,” she broke in, the silence a little pressing. “Hello, Mr. Hardy.” _Right, we don't know each other. We didn't have a kid. He's not sitting next to Agent Mitchell right now._ “I'm Agent Debra Parker, new to the party. We were just discussing you.”

Riley stepped in, “Agent Parker's in from Quantico; she's taking the lead.”

“I want to speak to Mr. Hardy privately,” she directed. The two men left the office.

“Where's Mason?”

“She's on her way back to Quantico,” she said, “Apparently, she allowed a former agent alone in a room with Carroll, where he proceeded to break three of his fingers.” The door closed and she hissed, “Are you insane? Breaking his fingers?”

“Nice to see you too, Debra,” he grumbled.

“Turner wants you off, or at the least, sidelined. He thinks you're going to crack. He wants the one from ten years ago, not the one from now.”

“Is there that much of a difference?”

“There better be, because Carroll's made you the main character in his psycho sequel, so getting rid of you is not an opinion,” she lectured, “And Mike's not going anywhere so I would really like it if both of us were here.” _To protect him, to help him, to save him._ There was another awkward pause. She had settled herself down. “I'm sorry about Sarah Fuller.”

A little too much of a tetchy subject, he diverted, “I want a gun.”

“Oh, no way in hell,” she responded.

“I need to be deputized.”

“When was your last drink?” she questioned, “Even the smallest drink from the water bottle?”

 _Damn it. Mike ratted me out._ “Director Franklin asked me to be here, and if I'm going to stay, I want a gun.”

“I'll take it under advisement,” she filed, then looked around at the amount of files Mason had gotten in a short amount of time. “How's your heart? Are you going to be able to keep up with Riley and Mike?”

“Are you really asking that? Besides, this is wasting time. Joey is missing,” he insisted.

“So tell me about his accomplices,” she cut off. She handed him Jordy's file.

“He used this guard to gain access to the internet, to create a group of people that would help him out and force you to come out and give me hell,” he swore, “He had to go and create a damn cult.”

“Yeah, let's not use that word yet. People do not like that word,” she observed.

“They wouldn't have sent you out if they didn't think it.”

“No, they wouldn't,” she agreed, going through more notes. “Carroll mentioned a letter?”

The two of them stared at each other. She waited for answers; he wanted out of the room. “She received a letter about a week before his escape, personal,” he stated, “He questioned my relationship with her.”

“Huh, so did we eight years ago.”

“Which we do you mean?”

“The FBI.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He came close to repeating it at her. “So, now you're up to speed.”

Riley interrupted them before anything else could happen. “We got more bodies.”

The ride to the crime scene was silent. Probably because Ryan had opted for a ride with Riley. Mike had stayed back at the center. The place was already swarming with techs combing through everything, trying to find a lead. They entered what was a center masterpiece of sorts that Jordy created. “He removed the eyes, Carroll's signature,” he noted.

Riley inquired, “Is Jordy playing at at Poe's greatest hits?”

“It's playing homage to Carroll. It's following in the footsteps of his hero; it's ceremonial. The work of an acolyte,” he announced.

“Not that word either,” she frowned, “It implies the other word. Let's go with 'Carroll's accomplices.'”

“Use something, but this is mind control at work.”

“Why have his son kidnapped?” Riley barged in.

“It's an offering; it's biblical,” he proposed, “They think of his as the son of god, something to be worshiped.”

“Or sacrificed,” Parker mentioned. He looked back at her. They couldn't think that.

“Carroll knows where the kid is,” Riley said.

“He's not going to tell us.”

“But he might tell his wife,” he debated, “Carroll asked to see her.”

He shook his head, adamant. “He's smarter than that; he's not going to tell her anything.”

Parker decided, “Well, let's find out.”

-

Riley was watching over Mike's shoulder when Ryan finally decided to join after seeing Claire off. Black and white video was up and he saw a familiar face. He waited until everyone was ready to listen. “I tracked her through the prison files,” he started, “She used several aliases very similar to the gay guys.” He ran the video and paused. “Three years ago. The guy beside her.”

“Jacob Wells,” he spotted, “You connected them.”

“And get this,” he continued, “I did a search for Jacob...” He fast-forwarded until he hit the two he needed.

Ryan couldn't believe it. “Paul Torres.” _They were stupid enough to let themselves be captured on the cameras._

“They signed in together. You were right; they were all in on this.”

“Hey, find the first time the nanny visited Carroll,” he suggested, “Maybe she didn't use an alias.”

He nodded and searched through the records. Ryan turned back to Parker, and she looked at him before they turned back. “Two thousand four, she signed in as Emma Hill. Okay, there's an Emma Hill in Petersburg, Virginia; I have an address,” he reported.

“Petersburg is too close; they'd never risk it,” Riley pointed out.

“Unless they're hiding under our nose,” Ryan mentioned.

Parker ordered, “Go, take Weston. And Ryan.” Riley walked out first, Ryan behind him. “Call ahead and have the local authorities meet you there.”

“Got it,” Mike nodded, hurrying to catch up.

They didn't talk to each other in the car. A local patrol was leading in the front, and another was in the back in case anyone was at the house. Which they couldn't enter without a warrant.

Ryan raced up the steps, thinking that someone may have still been there if they didn't suspect the FBI had caught on. He knocked a few times while Mike walked up. “Nobody's home,” he affirmed, going to the windows after checking the door.

“This is definitely the place,” he concurred, “Neighbors say they haven't seen anybody in a long time.” He watched Ryan try to pick a weak spot to get in. “Okay, you can't do that.”

“Nope, you can't do that.”

“My answer's still valid.”

Ryan glanced at him for the comeback. “I'm going to check around back, see if there's an open window. Stay here,” he declared. He walked around and found another door. It was locked, but he didn't want to wait. Grabbing a nearby pipe, he smashed it into the door frame a couple of times before the door itself swung open.

Still standing in front of the house, Mike groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose before getting out his phone to text Parker. _He broke in._

Goddamnit. You're supposed to stop him when he starts doing that.

He sighed. She really thought he could stop him when he starts doing this. _Should I follow him?_

Carefully, clear the house first before going after him. He motioned to Riley before finding the entrance point Ryan created and walking in. Gun out, he carefully moved around, checking all the corners and trying to see into the dark areas before moving forward. He had almost cleared the first floor when he heard the fight upstairs.

Racing up, he found Ryan nursing a head wound. “Don't worry about me,” he yelled, “The guy ran back downstairs. He's wearing a Poe mask.” He ran back down and tried to find the person he was talking about, even alerting the officers, who sped off in search. It was, however, fruitless.

Now, Ryan was going over the art on the wall while techs photographed everything. Mike walked back into the room. “Good news, no dead puppies,” he announced. Ryan smirked at his choice of news. “Bad news, I think it's time to use the word that everyone hates.”

Parker agreed, “So, we have a cult.” She looked over to Ryan. “You sure this wasn't Jordy.”

“Height, weight, nothing matched. It was someone else.” He threw down the mask he had been going over. “We weren't supposed to find this place; this is where they met and planned. I think Carroll was-”

“Using Poe's work as a religion,” she interrupted, cutting him off, “He's speaking to people through Gothic romanticism. There's a pathology to today's internet techno-Bred minds. It's created a new vacancy in our humanity.” Mike's face twisted into disbelief over her statement. Ryan didn't want to smile at that; he's pretty sure Debra's not talking about him. “Find the ones with additional disorders, jackpot. Enter a handsome, charasmatic man...” She glared over at him when he smiled. _Not you, Jackass._ “Who can touch them, let them feel their lives for the first time, conditions them.” She got closer to see some of the photos. “The only way to truly live is to kill. Or some crap like that.” She turned her head. “I was promoted a few years ago, thanks to my specialty of cults. I now run the Alternative Religion Unit.”

They moved over to another room. Riley was analyzing the wall. “I've got eight, maybe nine, different handwritings,” he told them.

“I want analysis on each one. How many prints?”

“Four, clean. Several partial. Our masked man was living here, too. Unmade bed, fresh food.”

Mike came back down. “There's internet upstairs. He took his laptop and server,” he commented, pulling out gloves and heading upstairs with Parker. Ryan joined them upstairs in the attic.

“Who are all these women?” Riley asked.

“They're all names of women in Poe's life and work that died,” Ryan noted. He looked over all the photos, recognizing a few victims, Sarah Fuller.

Mike was in front of a section that had a woman he didn't recognize. The wood around it wasn't tightly done, and he started to work it out, figuring they hid something behind, like notes. He managed to rip it all off, and let go when he saw it was a body, crashing it on the floor. Parker gasped at the sound and he glanced over apologetically. Ryan was a little disgusted at the body and turned away. He bent down to get a closer look. Riley came up behind him. “A female, she's been dead a while,” Riley informed. “The mother?”

He shook his head at the idea and what they had done. “Buried in the wall. 'The Black Cat', 'The Cask of Amontillado'. Classic Poe.” He stared back up at the roof again, taking in Sarah Fuller's picture. He looked over the next picture, Claire's with 'Nevermore' written underneath. A feeling of dread came over him, and he turned to Parker.

“Call the Matthews residence; make sure Claire Matthews is safe,” she ordered. Mike got out his phone while Riley went back down. Ryan followed him.

The lead officer at the house told them it was all clear, but they weren't about to take any chances. After talking to Claire, the group stayed outside in the mobile unit, watching for anything while keeping up to date on Emma's house. Ryan barely listened to the recap, drinking some of their coffee. Parker tried to get him engaged in the conversation, fishing for ideas on people, plans. Instead, he pulled up some scans of crudely drawn blueprints.

She almost asked what he was looking at, but figured it out quickly. “Why the blueprints?”

“It's how they planned,” he muttered, “The closet they took Sarah through. The garage where the officer was killed.” The next slide wasn't linked to Sarah. “That's Claire's basement.” He rushed out of the trailer with the others behind him.

The gunshots stopped everyone, and Ryan backed out quickly when one hit the door frame of Claire's bedroom. Riley was leading the rest up the stairs; Mike was at the back with the local PD. He didn't know whether Debra did that deliberately. Riley tried to go ahead and was forced out by Jordy threatening Claire. They were all forced back. Ryan lied to him, said they were gone. Mike watched him close the door and Riley give him his service weapon. They barely heard the muffled talking before a gunshot rang out. He covered Riley while Jordy was arrested. Parker hung back and watched Ryan cover Claire with his body.

After leading Jordy out with medics taking care of the wound and Ryan moving Claire into another room, Parker kept to the back as the lead detective was being chewed out by Mike and Riley. The older agent was keeping a cool face, but Mike was yelling. _God, why the hell did he have to inherit that from Ryan?_ Turner thankfully took control from both of them and ordered all non-federal officers out. She had to talk to Ryan, and that meant walking in on him holding hands, again, trying to comfort her.

_He rubbed the back of her hands. It was an instant way of calming her down, and he used it to his advantage. “I'll get him back.”_

They purposely sat just outside in the hall. “What's up?” he asked. She looked back into the room. “She's a strong woman.”

“She'll have to be,” she sympathized. “Guard's in surgery.”

He turned away from her gaze. “He'll be fine.”

“We'll question him the second he wakes up.”

He looked back up at her. “I want to see Joe.”

“So you can break more fingers?” she accused.

“Not like I can do that again,” he muttered, walking off.

“You're not supposed to want to do that again,” she interpreted, following behind.

-

Mike had Riley warn him about falling asleep at the computers in the mobile unit before heading back to his own room. Rubbing his face for the fifth time in twenty minutes, he checked for coffee and realized there wasn't anymore. _Guess it is time for sleep._ He exited and went back to the house to tell Ryan.

When he found him sleeping in the chair, he ducked his head and decided grab a blanket. Finding the linen closet, he pulled out a comforter and went back. He carefully, and quietly, unfolded it and placed it over him.

Ryan had never been a deep sleeper.

He grabbed the wrist that was trying to fix it so he was completely covered. “Hey, what are you still doing here?” he whispered.

“Working,” he replied.

“I don't think this is your work. Go, get some sleep,” he grumbled.

“That's what I'm doing next,” he answered. Ryan fell back asleep, hand still clutching Mike's arm. He carefully undid the grip before placing it on top of the blanket before walking out.


	3. The Poet's Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bickering, revelations and death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not quite sure about this chapter.

Somehow, it wasn't surprising that Parker had gotten in before him. There was already printouts of the house all over the office. “I'm not surprised you stayed with Claire,” she greeted, not even bothering to turn around, “The motel sucks; bed's made of bricks. Probably better in the chair.”

“Mike tell you that?” he questioned, the answer obvious.

“Yep. Told me he even tucked you in,” she joked.

_Of course he did._ “How many fingerprints?” he diverted, setting down his bag.

“Nine in total, several were older prints,” she mentioned, walking around to get something, “But, upstairs in the attic, we found six sets that were newer. It's where they gathered. We have Emma, Jacob, Paul and Jordy.”

“The guy in the Poe mask that attacked me, five,” he added, “Could it be limited to just six people? We weren't supposed to find the little clubhouse; maybe there's something here that'll tell us where Joey is.”

“If there is, I haven't found it. I've gone through everything. Nothing on where or why,” she huffed, “I want to understand what this cult is about. What's Carroll's message? Koresh, Jones, Manson, they all used mind control to reinforce their message of family and unity over the individual.”

“Manson convinced his family to kill over his own selfish needs,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, he covered it up with other shit,” she cursed, “Motives. He tested them by sending them out and killing people he didn't like, to prove their devotion. He manipulated them, get them to do anything for him.” The last bit was a touchy subject, and he noticed her saying it a bit fast, to get it out without thinking about why she knew it.

He bumped into her, standing a little close than normal. It was the only comfort he could give without going over or being misread. “Joe was a teacher,” he recited, “He was a man of ideas, and he was brilliant at it. I went to his class; he could engage and inspire his students better than any teacher I had seen.”

“I didn't know you went to his classes,” she stated. Her desk phone rang and she picked it up before listening to the other end. “Yes? Thank you.” He turned to her when she hung up. “Jordy's awake. Please don't attack him; I don't need you getting banned from the prison.”

-

It was a good thing Mike found something that got them away from Jordy. She had smacked Ryan when leaving for his little 'slip' but it didn't work the way she had hoped. _It's supposed to deter you, not make you smile, Jackass._ “Sorry for the shaky cam,” he said, “It's from a witness' cell.”

“What are we watching?” she asked.

“Street performance by a man dressed as Poe early this morning,” Riley replied, “Recognize him?”

“He was doing this on the street?” she questioned.

“It's very common in the historical district,” Mike told her, “And here it comes.” The four of them watched the burning.

Ryan stood up when he tried to get a better look. “Hey, who's the victim?” he asked.

“Stan Fellows, book critic,” Riley prompted.

_That's it._ “Yeah, Richmond paper, I know this guy,” he divulged, “I interviewed him for my book. He wrote a scathing review of Carroll's book 'The Gothic Sea.' It was the worst I read.”

“Suspect threw confetti into the crowd.” Riley held up a bag with fragments. “It's got writing on it.”

Ryan read it, “'Generous critic fann'd the poet's fire and taught the world with reason to admire.' That's Poe.”

“So, Carroll wants his followers to exact revenge on his critics?”

“Yeah, that could take a while,” he jested. Parker rolled her eyes at his humor. Riley didn't catch it, but Mike did and smiled at them. She shooed him off to find more footage of the arsonist.

An hour of searching accessible cameras, he finally found someone changing into the clothes and spotted the Poe mask. “Hey, I got him,” he announced, going back a few frames to get the license plate and run it, “There's a business owner downtown with a security camera in a alley two blocks away.”

Ryan was over his shoulder, watching. “Can you get a license plate?”

He smiled, “Way ahead. Car's registered to Rick Kester. He's twenty-nine. One twenty Churchill.”

He nodded, “All right, let's go.”

Parker stopped, “After what you pulled last time, we're waiting until a warrant clears.” Mike snickered and Ryan hit him before walking after Parker. Riley raised an eyebrow at the little exchanged but didn't speak up.

The house was quiet when they arrived. Mike put on the bulletproof vest before slipping on a cheap windbreaker with a generic brand patch. Riley forced the hat on his head and he scowled before fixing it and getting out of the van. He walked up and knocked a few times on the door. Peering in the windows, he looked back and nodded at Parker, signaling that no one was answering.

Once inside, they carefully searched, wary of anyone that might jump out. Ryan started getting ahead of everyone before Parker stopped him. Carefully, she cleared quickly while he moved in. He looked back at the rattle and barely registered that Parker took a defensive stance when he opened the door. He instantly had her against the wall. “We're not going to hurt you,” Parker tried calming. Ryan didn't share the same sentiment. “Who are you?”

“Maggie Kester, I live here,” she gasped.

“You know Rick Kester?” he growled.

“Yes, I do, he's my husband.” Parker managed to get him off, having Riley and Mike walk her out.

“Did you have to choke her?” she hissed.

“Reaction,” he grumbled.

She sighed, but didn't contradict him. 

Surprisingly, she agreed to come with them to the detention center and they settled her in Parker's office. Ryan joined in, which she thought was a bad idea. The woman looked terrified, and his presence was probably adding to it. “Thank you for agreeing to come down and talk with us,” she said.

“Are you kidding? I don't want to stay in that house alone.”

“When was the last time you heard from your husband?” Ryan questioned.

“Last night,” she mumbled, “He called; I didn't pick up. We're separated, six months now.” She rooted around for her cell phone. “Uh, seven fifteen. He didn't leave a message.” She passed it over to Parker.

“Why were you hiding from us?” she asked.

“I didn't know it was you; I was scared,” she explained. The door buzzed and she jumped as Mike walked in with files on her assault. “He still has a key, and he's been bothering me and calling me, showing up at work.” Parker was still holding her phone, so he handed the files to Ryan. He caught a basic glance. Knife wound that required stitches. “Rick can be scary if he wants to be.”

Mike walked back out and Ryan calmed down a bit to act like he was concerned. “We pulled your records and confirmed your story,” he tried, something still not feeling right, “But I'm curious about this police report that you filled out a couple of years back in the emergency room.” He spread out the pictures, the wound visible. “Why did your husband try to kill you?”

It took her a few seconds to answer, both of them watching her. “I asked him for a divorce.”

“So, he took a knife to you?” She became upset and closed the file with the pictures. “They wouldn't press charges; I wouldn't testify because he was sorry. He was; he wasn't always like this.”

Parker asked, “When did you begin to notice a change?”

“He lost his job and had all this free time and started hanging out with these new friends.”

“Did you ever meet any of them?” Ryan inquired.

“No, I didn't want anything to do with them. He would come home with these weird ideas and saying crazy things.”

“What things?” he prompted.

“He started talking a lot about death, how life didn't matter. He got really dark; he was depressed.”

He heard enough. Nodding toward the door, Parker walked to join him outside. “We're going to give you protection until we find your husband,” she assured. Maggie nodded her thanks before she excused herself outside. “You don't believe her.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, she's tragic and pathetic. Been there, done that.”

“I never stabbed you.”

“You're not the only guy I've dated.”

He repressed the instinctive eye roll. “We need to find the husband; he's the closest thing to finding Joey,” he declared, “Hey, why don't you let me see Joe again?”

“No,” she stopped.

“Hey, I might be able to get him to reveal something.”

“Again, no. I should go see him. Think it's about time he and I met,” she said, walking off.

“That sounded vaguely disturbing,” he muttered, watching her leave before heading to the monitors.

Riley joined in just as she headed to the room. “Hi, I'm Agent Parker,” she introduced herself, “We haven't officially met. How's your hand?” Joe apparently wasn't in a talking mood. “First of all, awesome job. I'm very impressed. How much planning did all of this take? Seriously, you are doing a great job.”

_Okay, Debra, you can stop buttering up to him now. I'm sure if you ask nicely, he'll tell you how to kill me._ Ryan fought a smirk rising up but stopped it when he heard Joe thanking her for a book. _You brought him something? And you technically did meet him._ “You're welcome.” He looked over at Riley, expecting him to know something. He was just as confused. “Why torch your critics? That seems a little petty.”

“Oh dear, has someone been playing with matches?” he inquired. He bent forward, getting closer to Parker. “I'm not above revenge, Agent. I think I've proved that. Revenge is primal; it's a universal instinct, and every good story needs one.” He turned to the camera. “Don't you agree, Ryan?” He moved back down to Parker. “Of course, his theme, somewhat different.”

Parker moved on. “So, your acolytes come up with ways to make you proud with these little tributes,” she mentioned, “Is that the way they're helping you write your book?”

“Right,” he said, “Everyone has a story to tell, Agent.”

“Your little devotee, he's going to torch all your critics?”

“There are really only three people I hold accountable for professional downfall, Agent,” he hinted. “Isn't that right, Ryan? I wonder who he holds accountable for his downfall.” He addressed Ryan again. “Must be very hard for you, to be surrounded by the stench of death again. I know this takes a terrible toll on you, and you must be careful, what with that little heart of yours.”

He walked out after that, thinking about finding the other two people that Carroll blamed, if he was going after them. Parker must have finished the interview because she walked in after him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Three people responsible for his downfall,” he repeated, searching for his book. “Me, the dead critic and...” He rifled through the book. “This guy, he was a professor at the university. He was a Dean when I interviewed him. After Joe's book failed, he was denied tenure by this guy, said he wasn't worthy. It was a big blow to his career.” He finally found a name. “Phillip Barnes, Dean of Literature.”

“Is he still there?”

“As far as I know. This was years ago.”

“Let's check.” She pointed at Riley and had him start a search for Barnes. “You okay? That heart comment...”

“Fine.”

“Nothing physically wrong. No shortness of breath, no pain?” 

“I didn't know you still cared,” he droned.

“Can't have you collapsing on me.”

“Hey,” Riley interrupted, walking back in. “Barnes was just found by a student. He was murdered.”

The police had just cordoned off the scene when they arrived, and weren't happy when they found out the FBI was taking over. The growing news crews also didn't help anything. Mike listened in to some of the newscasters and came back in. “Press is using cult. It's spreading fast; are you going to comment?” he asked.

“No, let them speculate,” she waved off, “Where's Ryan?”

“He's outside.”

She immediately saw him staring out at nothing. “Stop blaming yourself,” she told him, “There's no way you could stopped this.”

“I should have figured out his true plan,” he argued, “He wanted me to; he's baiting me. Should have seen it coming.”

“Why? Because of one or two interviews eight years ago? He's messing with you, torturing you.”

“It's working,” he grumbled, walking off.

-

Mike kicked himself over just as he was about to drink some of his coffee. “The coffee would work better if you weren't drinking,” he informed.

“Wiseass,” Ryan whispered, making sure no one else heard. “Rick Kester's records just came in. Look at this.” He pointed out charges on a credit card bill.

“Wait,” he read, going through it quickly. “They bought all the exact same things that Joey already had.”

“That's what I'm thinking.”

“They plan on keeping him a while.”

“That's a good thing.”

They planned on releasing Maggie, and Ryan went to ask her about the credit card bills as well. She didn't know about the toys. She looked scared when her phone rang, and became terrified when she saw it was Rick. He nodded at Mike, who went to try and trace it. Riley stayed to listen in.

“Rick,” she said.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“The FBI came to the house, Rick,” she explained, “What have you done?”

There. She sounded too emotionless. Ryan noted it away until he could talk to Parker. On the computer, Mike was frustrated in trying to track the phone. It was bumping all over the place.

“Are you with them now?”

He motioned at her. “Y-yes. Yes. They're looking for you, Rick. You're in trouble. How could you hurt those people? Where are you, Rick?”

“Is Ryan Hardy there?” No one gave him an answer. “Tell Ryan, it was all for him.” Rick ended his side.

Mike walked back when the call ended. “They're using the same setup as their internet,” he complained, “It's being routed internationally; we can't trace it.”

Riley looked over to Parker. “What do you think?”

She shook her head, “We try and make contact? I don't know. Take her home, stay with her. I'll send someone to relieve you in the morning.”

“I'll go with him,” Ryan tagged.

“No, what you are going to do, vodka breath, is go back to the dumpy motel the FBI stuck us in and get some rest,” she insulted, “And no going over to Claire Matthews house.” She turned to Mike, who was laughing silently.

Ryan smacked him in the shoulder. “I'm fine.”

“Last time you had actual sleep? Meaning more than an hour and not alcohol induced,” she questioned, “Go and sleep for a full night. You're over-identifying with the victims; combined with your guilt, it's making you unravel. We will find Joey Matthews tomorrow.” Ryan walked off and she looked back at Mike, who had gone silent. “Don't help him out.”

“Got it,” he nodded. He walked back to the door frame, waiting for Parker to go in her office. “Not getting any sleep, are you?”

“He knows where Joey is.”

He shrugged, “I got a rental. We might want to leave before she sees us.”

They walked together. “Not supposed to help me?”

“Well, she can't ground me, but she can stick me with desk duty.” Ryan laughed at him. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for the support.”

Sitting in the car, Mike called up Riley. “Hey, Ryan and I are outside the house,” he reported.

“What?” he muttered, “Does Parker know?”

_She knows Dad, so it's pretty likely._ “Yeah,” he lied.

“Do you really think Kester would be stupid enough to come here?”

“He's already killed two people today,” he mentioned, “He's escalating; he's getting bolder. We'll be outside if you need us.”

“Yeah,” he said, ending his side.

Ryan looked over at him. “Does she know we're here?”

“It's Mom,” he stated, “She knew you wouldn't give it up. She told me to watch you earlier; I just followed that order.” He looked down. “I know you probably don't want me here; you want to do this by yourself. I'm the second youngest agent in the BAU; Spencer Reid is still there. People look at me funny still and I like this as my career. I can't do what you do, not yet.” Ryan squeezed his shoulder. Uncomfortable, he tackled a different area. “Are you still in Brooklyn?”

“Yeah. Same apartment.”

“How do you like working with Mom?” he asked. He stared at him before lightly slapping his head and walking out. “Right, sorry I asked.” A few minutes after he walked out, he saw the motion inside the house, prompting him to call. “You okay?”

“I'm not sure,” Riley said, “Someone's in the backyard.”

“I'm coming in.” He got out of the car and made sure he had his gun before catching up with Ryan. His phone went off just after he caught up. “ Something's up. Yeah?”

“Jordy just told me Maggie's one of them. She's lying,” she told him.

“Maggie's one of them,” he repeated. The two of them ran to the door. Ryan kicked in the door and they were hurrying to the back, where Troy was bleeding out from a neck wound. Ryan handed him a towel before taking his gun and running off before he could stop him. He hung up on Parker and called for a bus.

“Come on, Troy, stop bleeding,” he pleaded, “You got to be there when they give me the Agent of the Month award so you can mock me over all the paperwork I do.” The man looked up at him and patted one bloody hand against his jeans before closing his eyes. He stopped breathing just after. 

Ryan came back in and he could only look up before staring back at the body. _Shit._ “Come on, Mike,” he whispered, pulling him up. He led him out before calling Parker.

“Ryan?”

“Maggie's on the run. Rick's dead, so is Riley.”

“Riley?” she worried, “How's Mike?”

Mike was sitting in the passenger seat of the rental, staring at the sidewalk. “Physically fine.”

She picked up on the second part quickly. “Shit,” she cursed. “All right, I've got patrol heading out to secure the scene. Crime techs also. Stay there.” She ended her side.

“Like I would go anywhere,” he muttered. He knelt down carefully so he could watch Mike. “You okay?”

“Stupid question,” he mumbled. Neither of them did anything until the patrol showed up. Ryan told them what he knew and they started a cursory search.

Parker arrived a few minutes later. “Mike?” she asked, stopping. He looked up and shook his head. “All right, one of the techs can quickly process you and you can get back to the motel.” He nodded and she waved one over. It was quick, a pass to get a reference sample on his hands and a short description of what happened. The tech packed up quickly and left after.

“I'll drive him,” Ryan said.

“You'll have to come back after,” she mentioned. He nodded and took the keys from Mike before sliding in the driver's seat.

The ride to the motel was quiet, and Ryan kept having to check to make sure he was still awake. He was, but he wasn't moving, staring off into space. When he entered the parking lot, Mike opened the door before he made it to a spot. He hurried to catch up with him and barely caught him outside of his room. Tears were just starting to form and he wiped them quickly when they started. “I'm fine,” he hurried, undoing the door and shut him out.

“Hey,” he stopped, one hand on the door. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I...” he paused, “I'm just going to try and sleep.” He closed the door before either said anything else.

-

He didn't know why it took so long for them to get Riley's body out, but the sun was already rising when the examiners finally managed to leave. Parker looked mad as hell. “That woman fooled me,” she fumed, “Riley didn't have to die.”

Ryan turned to her. “Joe fooled me,” he revealed, “I should have known he was it, but...”

“He was charming, charismatic,” she listed. 

He nodded, “They feel better after being near him; he knows how to help them fill in spots of what they're missing. I fell for it and five more were murdered.” Neither of them had much to say, and both of their cell phones went off. “Claire.”

She listened to hers for a minute before ending it. “Jordy committed suicide, ate his bandages. Find out what's going on with Claire.”

“Got it.”


	4. Mad Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debra and Ryan worry over Mike, and they shouldn't, mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heat makes me unproductive. Sorry. Hopefully without a two day computer break next time I can get things up faster.

Ryan called Parker when he found out about the video. She had him send it to an FBI computer before watching it herself. Her phone rang and she answered. “Have you got it?” she asked.

“Analyzing it now,” Mike answered, “Those are northern red oak trees and tall fescues grass in the yard. It's on the east coast. Trying to pull a number from the telephone poll.”

“What about the email the video was sent from?”

He switched screens. “An open IP address, thanks to North Korea. They're changing the routing again.”

“They're watching the news,” she commented, “They know we have Rick and his phone.” She paused for a minute, waiting for Ryan to not watch him. “How are you doing?”

Mike was thrown off by the question. He took his eyes off the screens and looked over to the picture of Troy. “I'm good,” he said, “All good here.”

She didn't believe him for a second. “Keep me posted,” she ended, placing her cell back. She turned to Claire. “This is.... It's helpful.”

 _Not working._ “You know, they made this video for shock value,” he diverted, “Joe's playing with us. It's like a game to him.”

“There's no concrete evidence to support psychopathic behavior is hereditary,” she tried relieving.

“You don't think I don't know that. I know my son's not a psychopath, but if you put heroin in someone's arm long enough, they become a junkie,” Claire fumed, “These people are killers; why can't you find them?”

Ryan started, “We will; we are....”

“That's what you keep saying. That's what you keep saying,” she repeated, “That's what everyone keeps saying. You're the FBI; if you can't find him, who can?” Ryan moved to try and help, but she walked off before he could do anything. Parker winced in sympathy pain.

“How come Mike's back in so quickly?” he asked while they were driving back, “There used to be a mandated period for losing a partner.”

“We can't afford it,” she mentioned, “Outside of you, he's the best expert on Carroll.” _For which I blame you._ “We've just lost Riley. He can't take the time. If Mike needs to take a few days, he can, but he can't take a leave. The Bureau can't question him, so he's going to be stuck on desk duty until I think he's ready again.”

“Huh, you really did ground him,” he gloated. The glare she sent was no higher than normal, so he ignored it, mostly. “Are we sure Maggie knows where Joey is?”

“Jordy said Emma and Maggie were behind setting up the house and she would know where they took Joey.” He wanted to ask whether they could trust his words or not, but he became focused on his pocket ringing. He read Jenny's name and closed his eyes. Parker looked. “Answer it,” she told him.

He shook his head. “Not now. I want to talk to Joe about Maggie.” She glanced at him before deciding to okay it, after sending a few guards along.

Seated at the monitors, Mike joined behind her to watch Ryan talk to Joe. They watched the play between the two before Joe realized they were after Maggie. Parker sent him off after they got the name. Ryan came back when he wouldn't tell them anything. Mike came up with his new information. “Oh two to oh five, in Little Rock, Arkansas, there were six murders, still unsolved, attributed to a female serial killer,” he reported.

“I remember that case,” she added, “Victims were stabbed.”

Mitchell interrupted, “Little Rock homicide sent a witness sketch; it's on my screen.” The three walked over. “They are not aware of Margaret Schuller. If she ever visited Carroll in prison, she used an alias.” Unable to find more on Maggie, they ran through leads.

After an hour, Mike spotted a good one. “This is from a hardware store off I ninety-five in Trenton, New Jersey,” he delivered, starting the video, “Now, they chat. Something's funny; they laugh and then...” They watched Maggie stab the man she was talking with.

“What did she buy at the hardware store?” he inquired.

Mitchell was behind them with the printout. “Cash purchase,” she listed, “Cord rope, tape, flashlight and several magnets. Neo base magnets.”

“Magnets?” Parker questioned. 

Ryan looked back at the video, paused on the act. “If Joey was upstate,” he pondered, “Then I ninety-five would be the route you would take.” His phone started ringing again with Jenny flashing at him.

_She stayed through the night. It surprised him until she said, “You had a doctor's appointment this morning. They called; they said you missed your last check up too.” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “You're a drunk with a heart problem. You have a pacemaker sewn into your chest to keep you alive, Ryan.”_

_“You don't have to take care of me,” he stopped._

_“I care about you,” she pleaded, “I do, and Mike cares about you too.”_

_“Don't....”_

_“He's worried. He's called enough times where you've slurred most of the conversation,” she mentioned, “He doesn't know about the missed visits. You need to take care of yourself, Ryan. You've gotten a raw deal, but this need to stop. Nothing changes if nothing changes and you won't be able to be there for Mike's accomplishments if your continue this.”_

_He focused on the first part of the last sentence, ignoring what she was saying about Mike.“What is that, a slogan from one of your little groups?”_

_She shook her head. She wanted him to understand. He didn't want it. “You know what? It hurts too much to be around you, so I'm done,” she sighed, “Just change something. Mike doesn't deserve to lose a parent this early.” She left and he could only stare after._

He waved the phone at them and walked into the hall to take the call. Parker followed him, with Mike a minute behind. “Hello, Jenny.”

“Uh, Ryan,” she wavered.

 _Something's wrong._ “What's up? Everything okay?”

“No, no it's not.”

He heard something moving in the background before another voice spoke, “Hello, Ryan, It's Maggie Kester. Remember me, the wife of the man you killed?”

 _No. No._ “Maggie, where are you?” he questioned, “What are you doing with Jenny?” Parker heard Maggie, and sent Ryan to start a trace.

“We're bonding,” she mocked, “Since you've been too busy to pick up the phone, I won't keep you. I just have one question. How do you want me to kill your sister?”

“What do you want?”

“I want you. I'll trade you for your sister's life, but you come alone, unarmed. If you bring any FBI near here, your sister dies.”

Mike ran back. “It's like Rick's phone. Wired internationally,” he reported.

“Damn.”

Ryan looked at them, asking Maggie, “Does Joe know what you're doing?”

“I've gone off book, Ryan. That's what killing a husband will do to a girl. Come alone.”

“Where are you?”

“Your sister promised to show me how to cook a good risotto,” she hinted, “I'll save you some. Hurry.” She hung up and he turned back to them.

“What's wrong?” Parker demanded.

“Personal matter; I have to go,” he dismissed, grabbing his jacket and running off.

Parker remembered how Joe had described Maggie during the interrogation. _Resourceful, tenacious and she killed women. Damn it._ “It's Jenny. Go, chase after him. Make sure he doesn't do anything to get himself killed,” she ordered Mike.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Go.” He nodded and ran after him.

He caught up to Ryan on the stairs. “Hey,” he called out. Ryan barely glanced behind before continuing.

“Go back to work, Mike,” he cut off.

“What's going on? You've had two phone calls, the first you ignore and the second you answer and you're rushing out of here. All Parker told me is that it's Jenny,” he expostulated, then it came to him, “Maggie. Maggie's got Jenny. Where is she? The restaurant? The apartment? Where?”

The questions pissed Ryan and he spun around to grab Mike's arm. He clenched it tightly before realizing and letting go quickly. “Sorry,” he grumbled.

“I get it,” he assured.

He sighed, “She wants revenge for her husband.”

“Everything Joe told us checked out, wanted serial killer. You can't do this yourself,” he pleaded.

“She warned...”

“I'm not coming as an FBI agent,” he sidestepped. 

Ryan started back down the stairs. “Does Parker know?” he asked.

Mike followed him down. “What do you think?”

The drive was long. Ryan was more worried about Jenny that he didn't respond to Mike's ideas for talking. “So, I haven't been able to talk to Jenny in a while. Kinda busy. What's been happening?” he tried. He kept glancing over to see him slumped against the door. “I heard about the divorce. I knew things were going downhill for a while but it was still surprising that David delivered the papers instead of Jenny. I thought she would have after the second affair.” Nothing. Mike almost wondered if he had mastered sleeping with his eyes opened when he looked over and Ryan looked at him. “Nothing, no conversation at all? This is the longest period of time we've seen each other since two-thousand three with no FBI that we need to keep the secret from and you don't want to talk about anything.” Ryan continued to look out the window and he sighed in frustration.

Just over halfway to the restaurant, Parker called up. Ryan took the phone from him before he could do anything. “How far are you?” she inquired.

“Halfway. If we don't run into any traffic, we'll be there after dark.”

“Mike's gone home due to the stress of Troy's death,” she lied. “Try to bring Maggie in.”

“All right. We'll try.” He hung up before she could do anything and put the phone back.

“Anything useful?”

“You've gone home due to the stress of Troy's death and don't kill Maggie.”

“Right, got it,” he agreed, subdued. The flatness and tone of his voice made Ryan look over. Mike was staring straight ahead, but his grip was tighter on the wheel.

“Maybe you should take a day.”

“It wouldn't do anything to help,” he stopped.

It was dark by the time Ryan pointed out a parking lot. They weren't at the restaurant, but just a couple of blocks over. “So, what's the plan?” Mike asked, following behind.

“The restaurant's closed,” he informed, “I'm going to do what Maggie says. After Jenny's safe...”

“Don't say it,” Mike preempted, taking out his gun and holding it out. “Take this.”

He shook his head. “Have to be unarmed. How's your aim?”

“I passed and I'm holding a gun.”

An unwanted twitch forced his mouth up. “Kitchen door, side alley, I'll leave it unlocked. Something happens; don't worry about me. Get Jenny out. Understand?” he ordered.

 _“Civilians are your first priority in a situation. Get them to safety before going after unknown subjects.”_ “Yeah,” he agreed. Ryan went through the front door, carefully watching for anyone before heading to the kitchen and unlocking said door. Then he went to the main area.

Mike waited a few minutes. He was in the side alley. They probably should have worked out something better. Codes, or time limits. He didn't know how long he should go until moving in. 

Ryan had to wait a few minutes before Maggie walked in. She had probably held herself a few minutes to make sure he hadn't brought anyone with him. He went to take off the blindfold, to make sure it was her. “Don't do that or your sister dies,” she stopped.

“Okay, okay,” he backed, hands moving away. “You got me, just let her go.”

“I intend to,” she promised, “I've grown fond of your sister. She loves you very much, and I've enjoyed getting to know all about Ryan Hardy the early years. I admit, most of it was sad, but I didn't expect the happy notes. She let me know about your son.”

“Where is she?” he interrupted. When she wouldn't give an answer, he started shouting for her. “Jenny!”

“Ryan!” He whisked off the blindfold and looked for where he heard her. Something came down on the back of his head and he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Maggie slapped him to wake him up. He started struggling when he felt his arms and legs bound. She had moved Jenny out into the open, and that became his main concern when he saw her. “Jenny, did she hurt you?” he asked.

“No, I didn't,” Maggie answered, “We were waiting for you, right Jenny?”

“Jenny, you're going to be okay,” he reassured. He couldn't come out and say Mike was waiting outside.

“I don't know about Jenny here,” Maggie said.

“You promised me,” he insisted.

“I'm not going to kill her, but the psychological damage of watching her brother die is bound to leave a few scars.”

“Just tell me what to do,” Jenny begged, “Just please tell me what to do.”

Maggie goaded, “Granted, it should be Claire that witnesses your last breath, but, well, she's locked up tighter than Joe Carroll. Yeah, Claire would have been a more appropriate choice, but oh well. Pain is pain.” She opened his shirt and then he realized what the magnets were for. “One of my foster dads, he had a pacemaker just like yours. Oh, I read your book. I know how bad off your heart is. You really need it. Did you know that electromagnetic fields can interrupt the function of a pacemaker?” She placed the first one down and he felt a slight hitch.

“No! No!” she screamed.

Mike looked up when he heard Jenny. Pulling out his gun, he opened the door and walked in.

“Shh!” Maggie hissed, piling more on his chest. “All you have to do is watch. You have the easy part, Jenny, but your brother, he is probably starting to feel...”

“Maggie,” he groaned.

“A little woozy.”

“Let her go,” he insisted. She ignored him in favor of taping the magnets. “Please don't do that to Jenny. You can kill me, but please let her go.”

Maggie bent down to his level. “Do you really think she's going to walk out of here? There's too many knives in this place for that. No, no no no no. We're off book, remember? It's improv night.”

Ryan couldn't think clearly. _Mike, now._ “Joe doesn't want you to kill me.”

“That's the beauty of it. I'm not killing you, Joe is. He's the one that stabbed you in the heart; I'm just shutting down you heart gizmo so that Joe actually does kill you. I think it's perfect.” She looked over to her other victim. “Jenny, you watching? How cursed your family is?” She laid one hand on a close magnet. “This is for Rick. We loved each other. Do you understand love, Ryan? Real love? Because you didn't stay with the mother of your child, otherwise, you wouldn't have gone after Claire.” 

She picked up a knife and sliced through the tape holding him down. He couldn't even move, barely getting a few inches up. “Oh, your fingers are blue,” she noted, “Your blood's not circulating.” She cut more to prove it. “It hurts, doesn't it?” Jenny started screaming again. He rolled off the table and onto the floor. She enjoyed it. “It will be soon now. You don't want to miss the end.” Maggie moved over to Jenny. “Let's get closer so you can see his last breath.”

Mike grabbed her when she started rolling Jenny. Angry that someone had interrupted, Maggie barely thought about anything and didn't listen when he yelled, “Stop.” She ran at him, knife up. He shot once, hitting her chest. _Rick?_

He didn't pause, hitting the floor and pulling off the tape and magnets. “Ryan,” he called down, “Come on.” The man barely acknowledged him staring up. “Dad, wake up.”

“Mike?” Jenny mumbled. That brought his attention to her and he rushed over, calling Parker while cutting the tape on her wrists. She rushed over to Ryan while he was still trying to become more aware. “Why.... why are you here?”

“I'm on the Carroll case,” he explained. Debra was yelling at him over the phone. “Parker, yeah, Maggie's dead. I didn't kill her purposely; she charged at me. Ryan had the magnets on his chest; it interfered with his pacemaker.”

“Do you need an ambulance?” she questioned, ordering people on her side to get to the restaurant.

“It might be a good idea.”

“NYPD has a couple of people coming over to secure the area. Don't do anything else.”

“Got it,” he finished, the call ending on her side.

Jenny had been watching him. “Debra's on the case also?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“What idiot allowed the three of you to work this together?” she inquired to herself.

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Jenny,” he joked.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, slapping him. “You're making me feel old.” It didn't take long for them to get an ambulance to the restaurant. Jenny was separated and questioned by an officer while Ryan was loaded into the back, patches attached so they could monitor his pacemaker.

Mike came up just after they talked about him getting an appointment with his cardiologist. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, you?” he flipped.

“Fine.” He held up an evidence phone. “Maggie Kester's cell phone. I got it, calls, emails.”

“I thought it was on a secure server.”

“Yeah, but if something happens, a bump or delay on incoming or outgoing calls, I can trace it, get a location.”

He nodded. “What did Parker say?”

“That me being here screwed up her story. She chewed me out in front of a couple of agents. Might get a suspension.”

He snorted. “Yeah right. Too valuable at the moment, FBI's know it all on Carroll.” 

Jenny came around. “We need to head back,” he mentioned.

“Give me a minute, Mike.” He nodded and walked off to the car. “Hey. Do you think you could disappear for a while?” he suggested to her, “Because I think it might be a good idea.”

“Miami's called once or twice,” she told him, “Maybe a visit's in order.”

“Okay.”

She looked around. “I saw Debra, and Mike seems okay. How's Claire?”

“As fine as a woman can be missing her child,” he lamented.

“You know, that woman tonight was right about us, our family. Cursed somehow, surrounded by death. Mike's not as affected. You're afraid of letting us in, but you can't go through life alone. It's not a life.”

-

Ryan noticed someone following him and turned back to see Mike, trying to act like he hadn't been doing the exact thing he was noticed for. “You do realize there's no one around,” he commented.

“Have to be careful,” he ruefully said, catching up.

“The phone?”

“Being processed. Par- Mom sent me home with orders to get sleep.”

“So instead, you're going to drag me into....”

“There's a marathon of Ghost Adventures on Travel.”

He nodded, “Something to laugh at.”

“Yeah, Troy...” he paused. “Troy would put it on in the background when he would steal my room. Said they were funny to laugh at.” Ryan didn't think, wrapping him in a hug. Mike returned it, dropping his head. “He was my first partner. This shouldn't have happened. I should have....”

“Hey, even Debra was fooled. No one to blame here. Except Joe.” He huffed. “Come on, there's a pizza place that doesn't close until three.”

“Yeah, I know. I've ordered there the past few days.” They broke and Ryan noticed tears building up before he wiped them. He just opened the door and let him in before getting out his phone. 

_Mike's with me._

All right. Take care of him.

“Hey,” Mike protested, looking up from the couch, “Stop telling Mom everything.”

“Hey, it's payback,” he mocked.


	5. The Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is deputized, Mike flirts and Parker tries to be level headed.

Mike left his hotel room early in the morning, trying to sneak out before Ryan woke up. He didn't let it on he was already awake. Debra's phone call about Joey being able to phone Claire got him up and moving quickly.

He headed straight to the center, where Mike was already trying to isolate the call. He looked better, and Parker nodded at him for his help in that. “Mike, what do you got?” he asked.

“Cell phone Joey used was scrambled with an algorithm just like Maggie's,” he reported.

“You worked past it?”

He turned to them before looking back at the computer. “Not exactly. When Joey hung up, the phone momentarily switched to Wi-Fi and pinged a signal in Baton Rouge, Lousiana.”

“I thought you said Duchess County,” Parker interrupted.

“It was. Opening the files triggered a virus; I can't be sure of anything anymore,” he lamented.

Frustrated at the dead end, Ryan looked up just in time to see someone walking in. “Hey, isn't that Joe Carroll's attorney?” he questioned.

Both Parker and Mike looked out the windows. “I thought he represented himself,” Mike mentioned.

“Yeah, at trial. Olivia Warren handled all his appeals. What the hell is she doing here now?” Parker glanced at him. _Damn it._ “Oh, no. We've got to shut this down, send her away. There's no reason she needs to meet with Joe today.”

“We can't do that, and you know it. He has a right to speak to his attorney.”

“He knows we're close to finding Joey, and he's planning something. We have got to get to Duchess County now.”

“Not until we confirm the location,” she stopped.

Ryan walked out, angry over the ability to not do anything. “It's going to take me a couple of hours to work through this mess,” Mike told her.

“Hurry, whatever you have to do, Mike. Just hurry,” she insisted. He nodded and went back to work on the trace, trying to undo the virus's work.

When Ryan finally came back, no progress had been made, the virus doing its job well. He turned his attention to Olivia Warren, who had the attention of the media. He turned up the volume and everyone started watching. Parker noticed and walked over. “What's going on?”

“Joe Carroll press conference. I told you he was up to something,” he restated.

She started reading the quote and Mike muttered, “Oh, great, Poe.”

He smirked at the complaint. “Mask of the Red Death,” he informed. Then he started thinking about it, pacing about.

Parker followed him. “The Poe story, Mask of the Red Death.”

“A mysterious stranger moving from room to room killing people like a plague,” he rattled off, walking back to the computers with Mike.

“Carroll's behind bars; a cult needs to hear from its leader. A directive couched in Poetic verse makes it special.”

“Yeah, it's like an encoded message. He's triggering someone.”

“I'm narrowing down to a location,” Mike brought up.

“You got it right the first time; it's Duchess County,” Ryan stressed, squeezing his shoulder. Mike looked up at the gesture. “They're scrambling you with this virus. We got to move.” He turned to Parker for the last sentence.

Somehow, she had been convinced, and she walked over to her office with both following behind. She stayed on the phone, and ordered a few people on the other side. “I've got a helicopter to take you to the nearest landing strip. Local PD will assist you, and the Albany Field Office is on standby,” she listed, “You will stay in contact with me at all times. Both of you. Understand?” Ryan was looking around. “Mike?”

“Got it Mom,” he mumbled.

“No letting him break into places again,” she tacked on. He nodded. They looked at each other when she brought out a gun and paperwork. “Sign.” He quickly read over and signed. “Do you solemnly swear to uphold the Constitution and blah, blah blah?” she bypassed.

“I do,” he muttered.

“Good, you're deputized,” she droned. She handed over the gun to him. She didn't let go. “Drink?”

“Not for a couple of days.”

“Heart?”

“It's fine.” She let go and he clipped the gun to his belt before heading out with Mike. He wanted to update Claire and Mike was willing to take him over. The helicopter wasn't ready, so they had time. He stayed outside the room while Ryan talked to her. He purposely stayed away until he heard from someone that the helicopter was coming.

He walked in, not getting either of their attentions. “Chopper's ready; we need to go,” he interrupted. He had to wait a couple of more minutes for Ryan to finally join him, but they got to the field where it was waiting and left the car behind.

It didn't take long for them to get to their destination. The locals were already waiting and they pointed out a car that would drive them to the station. Ryan got to the passenger's side first, and had to not look back at Mike, who wasn't pleased that he was in the backseat of a police car.

Mike was the official agent, so he was the one leading the conversation. “We believe Joey Matthew's call came from this cluster here,” he pointed out on a map.

“Those cell towers service nearly half the county,” someone mentioned.

“We're gonna need your help to narrow down the field. We're looking for a two story white farmhouse set back from the road,” Ryan picked up.

“Look, I can double check, but that's about a hundred and fifty properties. Rough terrain, fifty miles of rural farmland.” This guy was making it seem hopeless and the two looked at each other. Unable to convince them to go out and run door to door, they started setting up duplicates of pictures. Mike was, Ryan was going over tips.

The blonde cop came up while he was posting. “Is it true Joe Carroll has a cult of serial killers?” she asked.

He confessed, “We don't know the extent, but yeah.”

Ryan decided to stop the questioning. “Chief, you recognize this guy?” he diverted, motioning to the picture of Paul Torres.

“Maybe. Ava, the missing girl case in Rhinebeck, could that be the guy?” he motioned.

“I'll pull up the footage,” she said, going to the computer. Mike moved over to where she was. “Local girl named Megan Leeds went missing after her shift in a grocery store. We've got surveillance footage from that night. Last time anyone saw her, she was with this guy.” She zoomed in a few times, each making the picture blurry. “It's hard to see a face.”

He hummed. “May I?” She backed to let him take over. “I just want to route this through the FBI server. Advanced technology.”

 _Mike, stop flirting._ “Heh heh, I bet.” Ryan walked over while he grabbed his computer and found the file he had sent. Applying a different filter, he cleaned up the image. 

“Ryan,” he caught, looking up at him.

“Paul Torres.”

That was enough to convince the locals. They searched around Rhinebeck and gathered information before heading out. “There are about twenty farmhouses matching the description within a twenty-five mile radius of the store,” Ava said, “Most of them to the north. We should start there.”

Mike smiled, “That sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah, you and Mike start there. I'm going to take Officer Lopez, hit the south, cover more ground.” He almost left, but he wanted to do one last thing. “Could you give me a minute with Agent Weston please?”

The other two officers walked out and he checked around before slapping him upside the head. “Ow. You're not Gibbs,” he complained, rubbing the area.

“Flirt with her after we get this done.” Mike rolled his eyes before following him out.

-

Ryan knew something was wrong when there was no movement inside the home. “I'm going around the back,” he told Lopez, and noticed the man following behind. _Can't break in this time. Probably won't need to._ The back door was open, which increased his worry. He brought out his gun and -went ahead first. Lopez shouted out for the occupants. The reason for not answering became obvious as he found them in the living room, throats cut and blood everywhere. “Call it in.” Lopez was barely keeping down his stomach and he turned around to remind him. “Hey, it's okay. Call it in,” he repeated. He heard him talking to dispatch in the back, but he ignored it for looking at the blood. It was still wet, a drop actually forming off the lamp. “They were just here.” He walked back out, pulling the officer with him.

He spotted the bloodstained rag first, and ran to the edge of the path. “How close is the next farm?” he questioned.

“About half a mile through those woods,” he motioned. 

Ryan started running. _It has to be them._ When they got to the end, he felt out of breath. His chest hurt. “That's it. White house, black shutters.”

“You sure?” Ryan glanced at him and kept watching while he checked in. “We're at the farmhouse, about a half-mile west of the Sullivan house, pursuing suspects.” 

He spotted Jacob and Paul walking up to the house. “That's them.” He brought out his cell phone and noted the missed calls from Parker before calling Mike.

“Hey, where are you?” he answered.

“About a half a mile west of the house where we found the dead couple. I've IDed Jacob Wells, Paul Torres. We're gonna need some backup here,” he said.

He nodded, “Got it. Wait for us.”

“Gotta get closer,” he muttered, “Notify me when you're here.” 

Mike frowned when he ended the call. _He's going to get himself killed._ He called it in.

Ryan turned back to Lopez. He wasn't entirely sure about his plan, but he didn't want to go back. “Hey, you up for this?”

“Yeah.”

“We're going to get closer to the house here, try to get a better look. Okay?” he directed. He led the way around.

-

Parker was trying to figure out what the connection was to Duchess County. Mitchell had their information up on the screen and was also trying to find connections through anything they could think of. “Agent Parker,” someone called, “I just heard from Agent Weston. They found the farmhouse.” She packed up her laptop and headed out. She was ordering everything from phone first before turning to Mitchell.

She was barely ten minutes out when she answered her phone. “Parker.”

“It's Turner. Claire Matthews just escaped watch.”

“How?” she demanded.

“Warren had a meeting with Claire. Something she was told prompted her to take a lunch date with a friend. She just slipped us.”

“Are you covering the ground?”

“Yeah, checking in with the local PD as well.”

“Keep me informed.” She ended the call and looked up Mike's number before dialing.

Mike was talking to Ava again, flirting a little again when Parker called him. _Oh great, Dad told Mom._ “Yeah?”

“Ryan's not answering his phone. Pass this on to him. Claire Matthews had a meeting with Carroll's attorney. Something she told her prompted her to go out to lunch. Turner and another marshal acted as guards, but she gave them the slip at a local restaurant. She's gone.”

“She...” he paused, Ava looking at him. “All right, next time I see him, I'll pass it along.” _Ryan, why aren't you answering your phone?_

-

They had only moved a few feet, getting a closer look at the front and the action of what was happening. “I'm gonna go around back and see what I can see,” he informed.

“Right,” he agreed, “I'll get to the farm. I'll have a better sight line just in front of the house.”

“I'll meet you there.” Lopez didn't look like he was thrilled to be doing this. “Hey, eyes up.” He walked away first to force him to act. He carried himself low to hurry forward. Checking around corners, he didn't hear anyone and crept closer.

He looked up at the muffled gunshot and ran over to the barn. Lopez was on the ground, blood on his hands. His attacker was standing over him, about ready to deliver the last wound. “Don't move!” he shouted. The man turned on him and he shot him. He didn't move as Ryan ran over to check on the Lopez.

Blood was coming out of his mouth as he tried to say, “I'm good.”

“No, no, listen to me,” Ryan muttered, “I need you to stay on the ground.” He grabbed the radio and called out, “All available units. Officer down, officer down, farmhouse just west of route nine.” 

“We need to knock them off, one by one,” he insisted, “That's our best option.”

“No, no, no, no, wait here,” he stopped, taking off his jacket and placing it over the wound. “Help's on the way. You need to hold this, right there. Okay? Help is on the way.” He repeated hold on when the man died under his hands.

Mike looked over at Ava when Ryan's voice came out over the speakers. He grabbed the car's radio. “Ryan?” he prompted, “Ryan? Hey, Ryan.”

“It's too late,” he answered, “He's gone.”

Ava was shocked, then saddened. “Damn it,” she swore.

“All right, we're a few minutes out,” he replied.

“I'm going in.” Ryan picked up the gun and headed to the house.

Mike placed the receiver back. _Dad, just wait for us. Can't you just fucking wait?_ His tension wasn't unnoticed. Ava was already going fast, but she applied a little more pressure to the gas petal to go faster.

Ryan ran to the back of the house again. He found a basement window and yanked out the planks out before smashing into the glass to force it open. There, he found the missing woman. Megan was scared. “Hey, hey, I'm taking the tape,” he calmed, covering her mouth before she could scream, “I'm Ryan Hardy with the FBI. I'm going to get you out of here, but I need you to stay quiet.” She nodded and he took his hand off. “How many are there?”

“I've seen three,” she wavered, “They're gonna kill me.” Both looked up as they heard banging upstairs. It set her off, crying, “They're crazy. You have to get me out of here right now.”

He had to shush her. He didn't think it was the trio. “Is there a boy upstairs?”

“I don't know; get me out of her-” 

He cut her off, “I will be right back. I promise you.” She sobbed as he went upstairs. He carefully closed the door to not make any loud noise and searched for what had been causing the bangs. He moved around until he got to a second set of stairs and looked up to see Joey Matthews. “Hey, Joey, remember me?” he asked, plastering on a smile, “I'm a friend of your Mom's. She sent me to come take you home.”

The gun at the base of his skull stopped him from saying anymore. _Shit. Wasn't paying attention. Debra's gonna kill me._ “Do not move,” Paul ordered.

-

Mike tried calling Ryan. Something worried him. He didn't announce the message over the radio about Claire Matthews. He couldn't get him to answer. He changed over to texting Parker. _Can't get in contact with Dad._

Debra checked her phone and pulled off to the side to text back. What's happening?

_One of the locals was killed. I think he went ahead without backup._

She sighed. Just get over to the scene and worry about him then. She started driving again.

He read the last message before sliding his phone back in his pocket. _Dad, I wish you'd listen. Please be safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit smaller than usual, but that will probably be made up with the next chapter.


	6. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's on the inside, Parker and Mike are outside. They're all worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The computer I am normally on acted up a lot when I was writing this. That and it was hot again.

Mike had to cram all his worries down. Ryan was probably in danger; someone had shot the officer he was with. They drove up just as a couple of other police cars managed to arrive as well. Ava filled in, “House sits a ways from the road; it's just beyond that treeline.” She looked freaked.

“Hey, you're doing good,” he reassured, “Just hang in there. How big is the property?”

“Four acres, mostly fields and woods,” she added, turning to her boss, “Chief, Lopez is dead.”

That surprised him. “He's what? How?”

“We don't know the details. He was with Ryan Hardy,” she revealed.

The man looked lost. “Hey, hey,” Mike stopped, “I'm sorry about Officer Lopez, but I need you to focus, Chief. I need all of your men here, now. Okay? Feds are on their way with SWAT and HRT, but we need to guard the perimeter so no one can leave the property until then.”

He questioned, “Where's Ryan Hardy now?”

“Last time I spoke to him, he was heading inside the house,” he mentioned.

-

Ryan was working them over. Paul and Jacob were easy to manipulate. They weren't confident and they were afraid of him. They knew about the dead guy in the barn and figured he killed him. Emma was feeding them bullshit. If he could get them to turn on her, then he could go and get Joey before they realized anything.

His phone started ringing at the wrong time.

“What was that?” Jacob asked.

“My cell phone,” he answered simply, “Want me to answer it?”

“No!” Paul quickly insisted, “Just, give it to me.”

Ryan brought it out of his pocket, saw it was Mike trying to call. _Sorry._ He held it out. “Take it from me,” he taunted, “Take it.”

The two men had an unheard argument over who would get closer. “Put it on the table and step away,” Paul decided. It was still vibrating when he sat it down.

After a few minutes of posturing and empty threats, he asked, “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Jacob changed his answer. “I mean no.”

He sat down in what looked to be a comfy, slightly worn chair. Settled, he figured, “Oh, so Paul's in charge.”

“No,” Jacob protested, “No one's in charge.”

“That explains things,” he muttered.

“Hey, you shouldn't be such a smart ass with a gun in your face,” Paul demanded.

“Yeah, probably not,” he admitted, “Not the worse thing I've done, though.”

Emma came down. “How's Joey?” Jacob asked.

“I gave him his special milk,” she told him, “He'll be asleep in ten minutes.”

“You drugged him?” Ryan questioned, slightly worried.

She turned to him, annoyed. “Why isn't he tied up?”

The three looked up when they heard the noise outside. “What is that?” Paul inquired, “I hear sirens.”

Jacob moved to the window, peeking outside. “It's the cops. What are they doing?”

“They're letting you know you're surrounded,” Ryan informed, “I told you, none of you are getting out of here.”

Emma walked over to him. “The same goes for you.”

“Yeah, well, I'm okay with that, because I know you're not going to hurt Joey and I know the FBI's not gonna hurt him. So I'm okay with anything else,” he stated.

Emma smiled cruelly. “Really, you smug-”

Jacob tried to stop. “Oh, be careful,” he warned. He backed out of the way when he saw the taser. Ryan registered it and felt intense pain when she pressed it close to his pacemaker. It lasted a couple of seconds before she stopped and moved back. He couldn't move, couldn't fight, involuntarily seizing at the reaction. That's what she wanted. “What's going on with him?”

“It's the electric current; it interferes with his pacemaker,” she explained, satisfied at the result, “He'll be okay.” She bent down to look at his face. “By the way...” She lit up the taser. “Joe's idea.” She walked away and ordered, “Now tie him up.” _Shit, I'm really going to need that cardiologist now._

-

Mike had to coordinate the agents that started arriving while the police cars circled the area. Nervous energy wasn't the greatest, but he kept himself going while not worrying too much. The mobile unit pulled up and he headed in, Ava following so he could start working on something.

Parker arrived about an hour later. She immediately searched out the unit and found Mike working inside. “Bring me up to speed,” she ordered.

“Ryan's inside with the suspects. We can't confirm a number or where Joey Matthews is,” he reported, “We have tapped into the house's server.” He brought up the program and saw it went active. “They're trying to email someone.” 

Ava had been looking over his shoulder and pointed out, “Looks like it went to Wi-Fi and then bounced off a satellite.”

“This is happening inside the farmhouse?” Parker asked.

“It's happening right now,” he stated, “I can grab this. And got it.” He brought up a mess of letters. “It's encrypted. Did anyone else get that?” He checked the other computers and came back empty. “Come on.” He kept typing to try and get something. Parker squeezed his shoulder once before moving over to the other side of the van.

-

Ryan watched as the three walked around, agitated. Paul set down more rope and a knife. He processed how quick he could get to the knife before Emma came back into the room. “You're gonna make a phone,” she demanded.

“No thank you; you do it,” he declined.

“No, you're gonna do it,” she switched, “You tell those cops out there to retreat. I don't want a cop or anyone coming near this house.”

“Or what?” he challenged, “You need leverage. I'm good for nothing; you can kill me and I don't care.”

Emma stared down at him. “Eventually, but I thought we'd start with our little friend in the basement.” Jacob chose the perfect time to walk up with their victim. “Have you met Megan?” She hit her with the taser and he shouted at her to stop. “Thought that would do it.” She picked up his phone and handed it to him. “Now about that call.”

-

They had a sky view of the area up on the main screen. Ava was in the middle. “Okay, so I'm seeing six entrances but only three access points,” Parker motioned, “Is that correct?”

“Yes, we've got the roads blocked,” she informed.

“What about aerial support?” she asked, “I need choppers in the air.”

“Got choppers on standby from Poughkeepsie PD,” Ava added.

Parker turned to Mike. “What's Turner saying?”

“They put an APB out to local authorities in Virginia for Claire Matthews, but there's no trace on her cell phone,” he mentioned.

“And what about Olivia Warren? What did she tell Claire?”

“She's not talking.”

She huffed, “She knows something. We're moments away from rescuing Joey Matthews and he orchestrates a move on his ex-wife. His lawyer's helping him coordinate a plan and I want to know.”

Mike's phone was going off and he plucked it out. “It's Ryan.”

“Answer it,” she nudged. He sat down at the computer and plugged his phone into a speaker before accepting the call.

“Ryan, it's Mike. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Just fine, cozy even. Just sitting here with my three new friends and a lovely woman named Megan.”

Ava piped up, “Megan Leeds, the missing girl from the grocery store.”

“What about Joey Matthews?”

“Well, they're kinda mad at me right now, so I probably shouldn't tell you that he's asleep upstairs,” he revealed.

“What are you doing? Tell them to back off,” she ordered.

Parker inquired, “Excuse me, is that Emma Hill I'm hearing? Emma? This is Agent Debra Parker. How are you?”

She looked over at Jacob, who just watched her. She couldn't believe this woman. “Say hi,” Ryan whispered.

“Is there anything you guys need? Can we get you anything?” Parker asked. 

Mike kept himself staring at his cell phone so he would stare at Parker. _What the hell are you doing?_ His training reminded him that making a connection to hostage takers was a good thing, that it lowered their defenses or sometimes got them to relent. He wasn't in the greatest mood to reason with them. They had his father, damnit.

“We want this to come to a safe resolution for everyone.”

“Then get the hell out of here,” she demanded, “Have your men retreat or I will kill Megan Leeds, and then I'll start on Ryan Hardy. Do you understand?”

“We copy,” she acquiesced. “Nice art, by the way.” Mike switched to her. _What are you doing?_

“What?”

“At your house, in the attic, the murals on the ceiling. The women, Lenore, 'Annabel Lee.' You're a very talented artist.”

“What do you think you're doing?” she questioned.

“I used to draw when I was young,” she told, “I gave it up. But what I really like about your work is that all of the faces resemble your mother.” 

“Is that negotiator talk? It won't work, lady. I killed my mother.”

“I know,” she chatted, “Most of us only dream about doing it. There have been so many times I wanted to whack my Mom.” He had switched to the phone, but turned back to her when she said that. He knew about the cult she had grown up in, but there wasn't any mention of her parents, just her sister. Now, he wondered what drove that little bit of anger. _Wonder if Dad knows?_ “You must miss her; your art suggests you do. I know I miss my mother all the time.”

“Screw you; you know nothing.”

“Actually, I know more than you may think,” she said, but the call was disconnected before the last part went through.

Ryan had to congratulate Debra. He knew how hard it was and still is to talk about her mother and the shit she put Debra and her sister through. Mike didn't know about what happened to either of them when they were with the cult. Now, he would probably try to ask about what exactly had happened. Later, after they got him back.

Mike thought for about a second before getting up to talk to Parker. “What was that?” he asked, curious.

“SWAT and HRT are an hour out,” she told him, “I was trying to …. stall whatever they're planning.”

“So, the stuff about her art being her Mom, was it true?”

“The paintings, murals, sketches, all look like her mother,” she informed, “I suspect she's traumatized from killing her.”

“I don't believe it,” he muttered, “Why unravel her?”

“Trying to bring her grief to the surface. Remind her she's human and that she has a conscience.”

“Are you sure about that?” he questioned, “Because she doesn't act like it. I think she acts like she has no soul, like a vampire.”

“What have you been watching?”

“Buffy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Back on topic,” she diverted, “I'm trying to make her rethink the choice she's making.”

“Sounds like her mother did a number on her.”

“Yeah, so did mine.” He watched her, worried. “Parental influence defines us, whether or not we want it to.”

“You okay?”

“I got over most of this; I'll be fine.” She had the police chief pull off his cars to make it seem like they were retreating. A few minutes later, Mike's phone started ringing again.

“Parker, Ryan's phone.”

He plugged it into the device again and answered when she was over his shoulder. “This is Agent Parker; who am I speaking with?”

She made her voice a little shaky. “It's Emma,” she answered.

“Hello, Emma, what can I do for you?” she asked.

“You're right; I do miss my mother,” she said.

_Lie, lie, lie, lie._ Mike turned to Parker. She's also picked it up. “You did not call to tell me that. What's going on in there? Why are you playing with me?”

She went back to her previous attitude. “She was slutty, my Mom. She brought home guys all the time, especially during my formative years. I could hear them in her bedroom.”

She nodded, “Is that why you killed her?”

“I killed her to be free. She tried to make me something I'm not.”

“Parents do like to control us.”

“Not anymore, nobody tells me what to do.”

“Except Joe,” Parker mentioned.

“I make my own choices.”

“How so? Did you just replace one parent with another? How is it different?”

“I chose Joe. He was my choice. We cannot choose parents, but we can break free of them, and that's what I did.” She ended the call. That was not what she wanted to happen.

“Parker,” Mike whispered, grabbing her attention when she stared off.

“Emma's stalling. Did you track the email?” He started running the program again to try and track. “They've contacted someone; they're buying time.”

He didn't pause, but he did point out, “Both of us are trying to stall.”

“Yeah, you're right.”

-

The drama in the house was entertaining. Ryan kept up with his taunting and pushing as he found out about the threesome. Paul was in love with Jacob; Jacob was in love with Emma. Emma just wants to control something. _Probably getting a power kick out of this._ He reveled in the freakout Jacob had when he questioned about it.

When he went after Megan, he used the opportunity to get the knife, serving as a distraction to get them to not hurt her. Paul forced him back to the chair before stopping Jacob. The knife hidden under his arm, he had to wait for the right time. _I don't know what you're planning Debra, but get it going now._

-

Mike finally broke the encryption on the email and did a mental dance. “Hey, I have something. I unscrambled an email they sent. 'What's your ETA? I have Claire.' Sent from a warehouse in Richmond.”

“It's gotta be Claire Matthews. Get Turner on the line immediately and give him the location.” He disconnected his phone before starting to dial. He registered the door opening and Ava mentioning SWAT. “Good, let's get you guys into position,” she said.

“Just give us the word, ma'am and we'll take that house, no problem,” he confidently stated.

“I want the child safe first,” she insisted.

“I got two well-trained sharpshooters,” he pointed out.

“And I've got a child, an innocent girl and one of my agents in there. Can you guarantee me their safety?”

“Guarantee? No, ma'am.” Mike had finished with Turner and was listening to the conversation with worry. If the sharpshooters couldn't get a clear sight in, they could hit Ryan by mistake.

“Get your men in position, but stand down until I say otherwise.”

He volunteered, “I'll go on site with SWAT.”

Ava added, “I'm going too; I know the property.” Both walked out after the man. Parker shook off the uneasy feeling to start ordering more people around for the takedown. Mike had to get his vest on and he shrugged off his jacket before struggling with it to get it on. He joined Ava, and they walked around the path that no SWAT members were taking.

-

Ryan knew something was happening. Emma was keeping them out of the loop. The phone call was likely another Follower telling them there was a plan in place to get them out. The knife was slippy from his sweat, but he switched often to dry them.

The punch was expected. Jacob was back being scared. He was able to get through his bonds when Jacob went upstairs to check.

“She's not upstairs,” he revealed.

_Damn it._ “What?” Paul gasped.

“I looked all over the place. She and Joey are both gone,” he repeated, checking outside as if they would miraculously show up. “They must have gone down the back stairs out through the back door. What are we gonna do?

“I don't know,” he shouted, “Just let me think.”

Ryan pounced, stabbing Paul several times. Jacob rushed over to help, but a simple punch in the face knocked him to the ground. He moved over to Megan and yanked her up and over to the door. “Run to the street; don't stop. Help will be there,” he ordered, taking off the tape. She ran, uneasy in her steps.

He grabbed his phone and the gun before rushing out the door Jacob had talked about. He called Mike when he was out and chasing them. “Mike.”

_Dad?_ “Hey, Ryan?”

“Emma's running, southwest corner of the property, towards the woods. She's got Joey.”

“Got it,” he confirmed, ending the call. “That was Hardy. Emma and Joey are on their way.” He pulled out his gun and led the way. It didn't take long for them to bump into them. He immediately was aiming at Emma. “Don't move. Hands in the air, now.” She actually listened, putting her hands up. “Joey, it's okay. We're here to help you.”

Joey was actually moving toward him when Ava spun around and shot him. 

Ryan jerked up when he heard the gunshot and starting running in the direction. The body lying there wasn't moving and he realized too quickly. “Mike!” he yelled, dropping down next to him and trying to find a bullet wound. He opened up his wind jacket to see a bulletproof vest and one stopped bullet. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered.

“Ava, the local cop, she shot me point blank,” he moaned, still in pain.

Rage shot up and he asked, “Which way?”

He pointed, “That....” He winced at the pull.

“Get back to Debra, now.” Then he pursued. He passed by the men stripped of weapons and didn't want to know what the hell happened at the house. He could see the vehicle. Emma and Joey were almost there. So was Ava. “Stop right there!” She raised her gun and he shot her first. Emma forced Joey in the car and they were driving before he could stop her. He refused to shoot at the car, knowing the probability of hitting Joey. His heart also started to act up, rebelling at all the running and the electrical chargers. He slowly made his way back.

Mike arrived in the middle of the chaos. Parker saw him, then saw his open jacket and the vest with a bullet in it. “What happened?” she insisted.

“Ava, the cop, she shot me point blank. She was in on it,” he reported, “She helped Emma escape.”

“Damn it. Two of the SWAT team were massacred before we could arrest Jacob and Paul. Someone found the bodies of the real ones executed,” she passed back.

“Shit.”

“Go, get that off and into evidence.” He nodded and walked over to a tech.

Ryan finally came back a few minutes later. Mike came forward with an update. “We've blocked off every road within a ten mile radius. Nobody's seen him yet,” he told him.

“How the hell did they get out? Wasn't this on lockdown?” he demanded.

“They took out two SWAT guarding the Southwest exit, posed as them and took out the other two,” she explained.

“They planted a police officer in the town; how did they do that?” Mike brought up. He was feeling a little hurt, flirting with the plant that then shot him left a bad taste. “They have tactical resources; who are they?” Ryan walked off, unwilling to debate and discuss the topic. “Ryan,” he tried calling back.

Parker grabbed him before he could catch up. “Let him go,” she stopped, “He feels responsible.”

“He's not.” She moved back to the mobile unit and he walked with her. “It doesn't make sense. How did Joe Carroll find these people, bring them together? Their resources, their abilities. Emma, Jacob and Paul were normal citizens, but a couple of Followers took out an entire SWAT team and a local officer is in on this. Where is he getting them?”

“Cult mentality is one of unity,” she quoted.

“That doesn't help.”

“We all want to belong, feel like there's someone we can connect to. Just because someone was a part of a group doesn't mean they felt they belong there. Joe can make them feel like they belong with him.” She looked around at the activity. “There's nothing more we can do here.” 

The two of them got a vehicle and almost started back when Ryan got in. “We're going back to the police station,” Mike mentioned, “Get some sleep.”

“All right,” he agreed. “Debra, are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she assured.

“No bad memories?”

“Still there, I just don't let them affect me as much.”

“Good.” There was a long pause where they thought he had gone to sleep. “Mike flirted with the blonde cop that shot him.”

“Mike!”

“Dad!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda wanted an ending where Parker was looking at the necklace and Mike and Ryan show up, but timeline doesn't work.


	7. Let It Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe sets a plan in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing I had most of this done yesterday. Heat plus bad news made me slump.

Claire wasn't taking the news that Emma had gotten away with Joey very well, but they needed the information that she could provide. Debra arrived to talk with her as well. Ryan wasn't sure that was a good idea, considering they didn't connect last time. He was sent out to make her tea and Debra started the interview. “He said his name was Charlie and he told me he was hired to follow me and to report back to Joe. He had photos and video and he- he said he was going to take me to Joey,” she listed.

“And you believed him?” she asked.

“Yes, I did,” Claire answered, “He had this honor about him, like he was living up to some code of conduit, definitely military.” Ryan knocked before walking. The two looked at him before turning back to themselves. “Um, marines or army or something. He said he was waiting to hear from someone named Roderick for orders.” He passed her the tea and she said thank you.

“Roderick?” she repeated.

“Um, yeah. I sure it's an alias. Roderick Usher, it's from Poe's 'Fall of the House of Usher.'”

Ryan butted in, “When we were at the farmhouse, Emma got a call from this Roderick.” _Mike also mentioned it after being shot._

“Cult members often have a second in command, someone to oversee, manage the cult,” Debra mentioned.

“Do you even know how many people are involved in this?” Claire questioned, moving to sit down, “I mean, are we talking fans or prison groupies or people with serious mental disorders? And do we know how many of them have killed?”

“Truth is we don't know,” Ryan told her, “But it's a lot bigger than we thought, more pervasive.”

“Miss Matthews, can I count on you not to engage with any more of Joe's followers?”

“No, you can't, not any more than I can count on you to find my son.”

“Claire...” Ryan tried, but she switched over on him, and her emotionless state stopped him.

“Look, I have been in your situation,” Debra revealed, “We're not doing enough for you. Our procedures and everything else is slowing down the search. We can't take risks; we're not doing a lot to find him. But you can't go off by yourself, because it will only put you and Joey in danger and Joe will have the upper hand. Inform us if someone contacts you again. We will work to get Joey back to you.”

She somehow connected, enough to finally get a nod of agreement out of her. She walked out on the two of them. She knew Ryan wanted to talk to her. _Ex-girlfriend connects to ex slash possible current one. Aren't there warnings about that?_ “You have to find this guy, Charlie,” she insisted.

“I'm sorry...”

“Don't. Just find him. He knows where they took Joey.” She ignored him, finished with talking to people. 

He left, Debra waiting outside. “You know she's going to be curious now,” he told her, getting in the passenger seat.

“How long do you think you can keep us a secret?” she asked.

“I'm trying my best.” The rest of the drive was quiet. Parker became concerned when she saw a man waiting by her office. Ryan decided to get a cup of coffee before hovering over Mike in the computer room. Instead, he go sidetracked when he heard Debra trying to argue with someone. “What's going on?”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Look, just give me the time to speak with the justice department, find a better alternative,” she argued.

“It's too late for that,” he finished, walking out, “Excuse me. And I'd suggest you do something about this man before he does more damage.” He pointed at him. “This is on you, Mister Hardy.”

He turned back to her. “The warden just granted Joe Carroll's request for a transfer.”

“When?”

“Immediately. They're moving him now.” He rushed out of her office. How did he arrange for this? What is Carroll planning? 

Mike caught up with him. He gave him some details, things he got out of Parker before running after him. He entered the room first. If Ryan were the first one they saw, they wouldn't allow him to do anything. Also, he wanted to face the man. He was responsible for almost killing Dad and making him live with a pacemaker. He was responsible for Troy's death, for him being shot. He recognized the lead agent from security detail when he was with them. “You mind giving us the room?” he asked. 

“He's all yours,” he passed, walking out.

He was curious, watching the man. He looked perfectly calm, dressed in heavy materials to keep him from being shot. It looked like he was just standing around waiting for his next class to start, or something else. “I don't believe we've had the pleasure,” Joe commented. It was a good thing he learned better anger management techniques from Parker, because Mike kept himself from doing anything else before he walked in. “Oh, Ryan, come for your farewell visit?” he taunted.

“Thanks,” he dismissed. Mike got one final glare in before walking out. Ryan turned his attention back to the killer. “Well, I couldn't let you leave without saying a proper good-bye,” he jested. “So, why the transfer, Joe? What's in Georgia? You have friends there? Is that where the cult is? Your good buddy, Roderick?”

He put on a pleasantly confused face. “Roderick? Roderick, no. Sorry, name doesn't ring a bell,” he lied. “Tell me about Claire. How did she react when you failed to rescue our son? Was she upset? Has she rejected you yet? It's okay, Ryan. Every great love must be tested after all.”

“You know, that's strange,” he interrupted, “I say the name Roderick and you immediately change the subject. Am I getting a little close?”

He smiled indulgently, “Hmm, I am going to miss these little chats.”

The agent from before came back. “We need to take him down for processing,” he informed.

Ryan got out of the cell so the other men could guide Joe out of his cell. “Goodbye, Ryan.” 

With nothing else for them there, the cell completely cleaned out, they went back to the activity. Debra was preparing to go along with the marshals that were escorting Carroll. “I want to go,” he said.

“No.”

“I should be supervising the transfer.”

“First, you were deputized, you are not an agent again. Two, the Marshals are supervising the transfer. They agreed to let me accompany them. There is no way they would agree to you.”

“I know Joe better than anyone else. I know he's planning something. I should be with the transfer.”

She turned around to face him just before she got to a door. “Stop, the farmhouse is not your fault. No, you cannot come. I will make sure nothing goes wrong.” She left him behind, standing in the hall.

There was no way he was going to stay away. Joe was planning something, and it was probably set to start soon. The first thing to do was to find out why the hell the warden authorized the transfer and didn't want to wait for the justice department to step in. Mike was talking to someone on the phone, but he looked up when he nudged him. “What's up?” he inquired.

“I need you to look into Warden Montero,” he mumbled, making sure no one around could hear.

“You think he's been compromised?”

“I'm not sure yet, but something's not right.”

He nodded and went back to his work area to start looking up everything on the warden as discreetly as he could. Ryan hung around the area, waiting for him to get something. Instead, he heard about the loading, and decided to head down to make sure someone wasn't going to break him out during it. No one acknowledged him and the only person that would like to rub his face in this wasn't talking. They had him in the truck and were securing him when his phone rang. Parker's name was showing up. “Everyone good at your end?”

“All set. Chopper's inbound now.”

“They've locked him in the transport vehicle,” he reported. Everything closed around him. Parker shut her side off first and placed it in her pocket before climbing into the SUV. Ryan put his away and went upstairs. Mike didn't turn until he stood beside him. “What'd you find out?”

“He looks clean,” he mentioned, “No known association with anybody that's visited Joe. But, there is one thing. He's got a daughter that's enrolled in college.” He passed over the missing person's report.

He nodded and went to go find the man, Mike following behind. “Warden Montero,” he called out.

“I really don't have time, Hardy,” he cut off.

“I have a question about Joe Carroll's transfer.”

“We've already been through this.”

He smiled, “Humor us.”

“You're the reason that man got transferred, not me.”

“Okay, so this has nothing to do with your daughter Dana,” he brought up, “Where is she, Warden?”

“She's in school.”

“Hoberman College,” Mike pointed out.

“That's right.”

“She hasn't been to class in two days. Her boyfriend filed a missing persons report this morning with campus security,” he continued.

“Well, I wasn't aware of that,” Montero denied, “I'll look into it right away.”

_Yeah fucking right._ “Joe Carroll's people threatened you, didn't they? They forced you to authorized the transfer,” Ryan prompted.

“Mister Hardy, I understand that you're here at the behest of the FBI, but you're skating on very thin ice here. Do not push me.” He walked away and the two of them walked opposite.

“There's no way you're buying that,” Mike said.

“Yep. Let's find out everything about him, people, places everything.” 

Mike went back to his computer and started pulling up his first search to expand even more. Mitchell was going through footage and Ryan found himself watching. “Run it again,” he motioned.

“What's up?” Mike asked, walking in with files.

“Going through the stuff we confiscated from Charlie's warehouse,” she told him, repeating what Ryan wanted to watch. “I found a bunch of surveillance footage all spliced together and one was marked Detention Center.”

“Wait, it's from here?” Mike questioned. She hummed yes and started playing it again. “Well, that's the prison exit. “Why would Charlie have video of that?”

Something was nagging at him. “Do you have access to the surveillance footage of Joe Carroll's transfer vehicle just after he left?”

“Uh, yes, I think I do.”

“Pull it up at the same point exiting the Sally port.” She did as he wanted and forwarded it a little bit through frames when the door raised. “Look at that. Run and enhance that.” They watched the door raise and for a second nothing came in but the paper then did. “There, this has been edited. The Warden hijacked the surveillance feed.”

Mitchell's phone went off and she checked the message. “Ryan, the warden just left the building, said he was taking the rest of the day off.”

“Get Parker on the phone now,” he ordered Mike, rushing out.

Parker looked down when her phone started going off. “Agent Parker.”

“Joe's not in the transport vehicle,” Ryan told her.

“What are you talking about?”

“The surveillance was edited. Stop the transport; check the truck. He's not there.”

“That's impossible.”

“The Warden and his men have been compromised. Do it.”

He ended the call on her and she sighed harshly. The Warden had been compromised, edits to the footage. She tapped the passenger. “We need to stop, check on the prisoner.”

“What? Why?” he questioned.

_Oh, like you'll believe me._ “Stop, now.” The driver pulled over on the side of the road. They waited until everyone had stopped before getting out. The truck driver watched her come around. “Open up.”

He opened his window instead. “What's going on?”

“Need you to open the vehicle.”

“I'm not really authorized to do that, ma'am.”

“I'm authorizing you,” she argued.

“That's not how it works.”

She pulled out her gun and pointed it at him. “It's not a request,” she stated. The driver finally exited and walked around to the back. The marshals were ready in case the man had freed himself and was waiting to run out. Instead, they found the entire back empty

Montero was focused on driving, trying to get out of the prison complex. He had to stop when a car stopped in front of him. Ryan came out of the passenger's seat and Mike out of the driver's. “What the hell is your problem?” he yelled at them.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he declined.

“Open the trunk,” Ryan demanded, walking around.

Both of them stood just far away to not get hit by anything but so they could jump on anyone that came up. “You're going to get my daughter killed.”

“Open the trunk.” The man stalled for a few seconds before acquiescing and pulling the handler.

There was no one in the back.

Mike looked over at him, confused. He ignored it for placing his gun back and throwing the man against his own car. “Where is he?”

“Ryan,” he tried interrupting.

People started gathering outside and they had to move. “She's my daughter; they're gonna kill her,” he pleaded.

“They won't,” he assured, “They need her alive to ensure Joe's safety. Tell us what you did so we can save your daughter and stop Joe.”

He shook his head. “His lawyer, Olivia Warren, they told me to hand Joe off to her,” he said.

Both were uncomfortable with his breakdown, but they needed to get on with finding Warren. They had someone else cuff him before running off. Ryan called up Mitchell while Mike drove. “We need a current location on Olivia Warren, Carroll's lawyer,” he informed.

Mike tried directing, “Tell her to ping Warren's cell phone. If it's on, it's our best chance.”

“Tell boy wonder thanks for the help, but I'm already on it,” she said.

Ryan turned to tell him, but he preempted, “I heard it.”

“Found it, she's in Richmond, driving, heading southeast on twelfth street toward Cary avenue.”

“Great.”

“I'll call for backup.” 

He turned to Mike. “Caught that too,” he stopped. He kept driving until Ryan got another call on his phone.

“Hello?”

“Mister Hardy?”

“Olivia, is Joe Carroll with you?” He thought he heard the man's voice in the background, but her receiver wasn't catching enough for him to make out what he was saying.

“What?” He heard something else. 

'Killing because of him.' “Don't do it, Joe. Wait, Olivia.” He heard her pleading on the other end. “Put Joe on the phone.”

'Tell him, Olivia. Tell him it's all his fault.'

“I won't!” There was struggling on the other end.

Mike looked over. “What's going on?”

“Tell him he can kill me,” he promised.

“Ryan!”

“Olivia! Olivia!” He could hear the choking sounds and kept trying to stop Joe by saying he could kill him. It didn't work. She wasn't answering back; he was already killing her. “No, no!” He started kicking around the car.

“Ryan, stop! We're almost there,” he told him. He was right, pulling up next to the car that had Warren in the driver's seat. “FBI!” he shouted, clearing people away while they raced over. He opened the door and found her body in the driver's seat.

“Anybody see anything?” Ryan questioned, looking around.

“Some guy got out of the car and ran in there,” one of the onlookers informed them.

Ryan ran ahead first, leaving Mike to yell, “All right, call nine one one.” Both entered the building and looked around, trying to find him. “You see him?”

He shook his head, “Go that way.” The two of them moved up to the second floor, scanning for any trace of people out of place or Joe. Ryan spotted him on the third floor, talking to another person. “Mike, he's up there.”

He ordered people out of the way, bringing out his gun and causing a panic inside the area. Both tried to get up, but the chaos had alerted the two he had seen and they got away before they could get up there. “Take the escalator,” he panted, out of breath. Mike nodded and went that way while he took a different path.

The underground tunnels were cleared, and he saw the body, a clear sign this was the way they went. He checked for a pulse and didn't find one. He figured they took the stairs and he went gun first. Someone was waiting on the other side and used the door to hit his arm several times before he dropped it. He forced himself up and held his arm in pain as he raced up the stairs. _Damn it, shouldn't have split up._

Joe came down the stairs after he fought off his attacker. _Better that Mike isn't here._ “Oh, this is most baffling,” he bragged, “You, me, us here in this moment?” _Oh God, that just sounds wrong._ “What do I do? Do I kill you? Huh? Now?” _Yeah sure, kill me and have Debra and Mike both willing to kill you at a moment's notice. Go right the fuck ahead._ “No, this is- this is all wrong. I mean you can't die in a parking garage.” _Kinda perfect, actually._ “That would be most uneventful, hardly dramatic at all.”

“Go ahead; do it.” _Better now surrounded by your psychos than in front of Mike or Debra._

“Really, you must admit it's a quandary, hmm?” he pondered, shaking the gun at him, “I so very much want you to live and see all that's about to happen.” _Great._ “You see, as much as you've encountered up until this point, I don't quite know how to tell you this, but we have only just concluded the first part of our novel.” _Fuck._ “Yes, Ryan. For nine long years, I have sat in my prison cell outlining this entire story in my mind.” _It should have stayed there._ “I meticulously planned all of it with a little help from my friends. That was a Beatles reference.”

Ryan looked up when he heard the helicopter. “But I must say very, very much going according to plan.”

A woman walked down the stairs, stating, “We should leave now, sir.”

Joe turned back to him. “There is so much more to come, Ryan. I'll be in touch,” he condescended.

The man stayed behind. “Call me when you're gone, and then I'll let him go,” he said. The woman followed up the stairs. He went to follow them. “Don't even think about it.”

He followed the gun move. “You can't kill me. Didn't you just hear what Joe said? He wants me alive,” Ryan reminded.

“Then I'll shoot you in the leg.”

He smirked, “Don't miss.” Moving fast, he got the gun away and shot him in the leg before hurrying up to see the helicopter taking off. He fired at it, hoping to hit glass and get someone inside. His efforts were futile, and he had to watch it fly off.

-

Parker came down to the parking garage and reported, “Helicopter wasn't registered. Local airport had them on their radar for a short while, but they disappeared. Warden Montero's in federal custody.”

“Anyone find his daughter?” Mike asked.

“Not yet,” she said.

“How are we supposed to find these people?” Ryan asked.

“Look for psychopaths,” Mike muttered. The two smacked him, Debra in the arm, Ryan on the head.

“”Whoever they are, we'll find them, arrest them and break them for answers,” Parker answered.

The guy Ryan shot was rolled over to the ambulance and right by them. “Let's start with him.”

“I can't let you hurt him.”

He raised his hands. “I'm not going to hurt him.” She rolled her eyes. “If we want to end this, get Joe back, get Joey back to Claire and get the rest of them, we need to start doing things differently.”

She was torn. This could be the end of her career, and possibly Mike's, but they needed to get Carroll. She pushed Mike in front of her. “Five minutes.” They purposely walked away so neither could be held accountable for not trying to stop him, hopefully. She also gathered the others so they wouldn't be witnesses.

Rescuing the daughter was a bright spot, if the body that could have given them something wasn't great. They escorted her to the ambulance and let it drive off before finally calling it a day. Mike was in his motel room, ready for sleep when a knock came to the door. Parker was standing outside, holding a couple of bags. “Your father will be here in a couple of minutes; he's talking to Claire now,” she warned him.

He questioned the intent, but kept himself silent as she pulled out his food. Ryan was indeed over a few minutes later, and he grabbed the food without hesitation before sitting down next to Mike. “What are we watching?” Ryan asked.

“Back to the Future,” he said, “There was nothing else on.” Mom took his other side and the two of them blanketed him for the rest of the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue didn't change a lot, I noticed.
> 
> Also, the alternate summary was going to be: Ahh, after nine years, Joe is free! It's time for him to take the cult in hand.
> 
> Reference to this - "Ahh! After ten thousand years, I'm free. It's time to conquer Earth."


	8. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donovan shows up and breaks the family apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this would have been posted earlier, except I wasn't on the internet for Monday and I didn't want to search for the place I stopped on Tuesday. (Different computer.)

Ryan walked into the detention center and didn't realize anything was different until he came across the main group of agents being lectured by someone new in front. Debra was over by her office, watching with a frown almost permanently carved on her face. He moved over to her office and they walked in away from the lecture. “So, I see Quantico sent in a new guy,” he gathered.

“Nick Donovan,” she informed, “Top of the food chain. Franklin brought him in to 'supervise'.”

“Official bureau freakout,” he partially joked.

“Everyone's freaking out,” she berated, “Carroll escaped twice. The news on the TV is insane.”

“Claire's safe? Anybody talk to her?”

“I don't know. It's protective custody and I don't have the clearance,” she told him.

“What about the guy in custody, the acolyte from Joe's escape?” he demanded, “I should question him.”

“You mean the one you tortured?” Donovan accused, standing in the doorway.

“I got information,” he stated.

Debra defended him, “He did; we found the warden's daughter and she is safe as a result.”

He didn't say anything and just walked over to him. “Ryan, finally nice to meet you,” he demurred. _Great, a kissass that will turn at any moment._ “Have you run prints on the guy?” Ryan turned to her, ignoring the anger that was starting to simmer.

“Yeah, we got nothing. This cult is doing a very good job of wiping their identities clean,” she reported.

“That's why we need to speak to him,” Ryan insisted, “To find out who and where this Roderick guy is.”

He smiled indulgently, “Ryan, we appreciate your help, but you were brought in as a consultant and I think it's time you adopted more of a consulting presence.”

Debra couldn't believe it. Higher up or not, this guy had no idea what he was getting into. “Carroll is the one who made Ryan more than a consultant,” she argued.

“I'm aware of that,” he denounced, “But Ryan is no longer an agent with the FBI.”

“Oh, come on! You know as well as I do that-” she attacked again.

“No, it's okay. He's right,” Ryan conceded, “I'm here to consult. This has become a bureau nightmare, right? I'm a liability. I'll just be in the other room. Consulting.” _Ryan, do not get into any trouble._ Debra watched him walk out before facing Donovan again.

He walked over to the computers, where Mitchell and Mike were going over readouts of something. “Everything okay?” he asked, standing up.

“Nobody likes me,” he professed, a little over-dramatically.

Mike knew he was playing, but he wanted to poke back. “Well, you're inconsistent and extreme,” he prompted, “And no one knows how to respond to you.” 'Except Mom and me' he mouthed after, so no one would hear.

He kept his eye rolling to himself. “I was joking.”

“I know,” he smiled.

Refusing to hit him, and listening to a small huff of laughter that came out of Mitchell, he got back on track. “We need to bring our suspect up for questioning,” he said, “I want to talk to him.”

“Not happening,” Mike denied, “Donovan's doing it. He insisted.”

“Of course he did.” _Great._ Ryan was pulled into going over tips and talking about theories when Donovan walked in with Parker. “Seems our man in custody has shut down,” he observed.

“He won't talk to anyone but you,” she stated.

This was some form of payback, and he liked it. He asked, “What would you like me to do, sir?” Mike was barely holding in his laughter and Parker seemed to want to strangle someone.

“I'd like you to sit with me,” he requested, “And you can call me Nick.”

“Sure thing, Nick,” he tried out, “Anything I can do to help.” Mike and Parker glanced at each other. This wasn't going to end well. They took to the monitors to watch Donovan and Ryan enter the room with the man they captured. The man didn't even notice Donovan was there, fixating on Ryan.

“This guy is nuts,” Mike stated, watching the screen, “Look at him.” The badly paraphrased quote annoyed the both of them. Both were startled when the man bit into the webbing of his hand and started convulsing, blood pouring out. Ryan was just watching the man, which worried the two.

Everyone gathered in an office that was apparently meant to be Donovan's. “We're waiting for the coroner's report, but I think it's a suicide pill,” Mike hypothesized, “A basic cyanide or a common PSP toxin.”

“He had it in his hand?” Donovan suggested.

“Yeah, it was sewn into his skin; it was implanted in the fold of his thumb,” he added, “It's a CIA ploy from the sixties. Al Qaeda's been known to use it as well.”

Mitchell walked in, standing next to Ryan to show him what she collected. “I got some new intel on the deceased,” she delivered, handing it to him.

Donovan snatched it out of his hands. “Thanks,” he said, “I'll take that.” He walked off.

He turned to Parker. “Seriously?”

Separated, they each went back to going through phone tips and other leads. Mike got into Donovan's email and motioned Ryan over to his computer when he had the information Mitchell had collected. “Based on his suicide, they ran his fingerprints through the military database,” he informed.

“Positive ID?”

He nodded, “Named in an investigation. Soldiers conducting lethal fights with civilians for sport.” 

Donovan walked in and he shut down his screen so there wouldn't be any evidence. “My email was hacked; was it you?” he accused.

Ryan stood up. He was just a consultant; they _needed_ his help. Mike however was just an agent that could easily be replaced. He'll take the hit. “Yeah, it was me. I did it,” he lied, standing up to literally cover him.

“Sorry, Ryan. You don't have access to hack my email,” he denied, “Weston?”

He admitted, “Yes, sir, I did. I apologize.”

“I need a word.” Ryan looked back at him, both worried about what the man would do. He forced himself up and walked with the man.

Parker came over when she saw the scene. “What?”

“I got Mike in trouble,” he regretted.

“They hacked Donovan's email,” Mitchell piped in.

She hissed, “Damn it, Ryan!”

Mike came back. “What happened?” he asked.

“I'm being sent home,” he stated.

He rounded on Donovan and argued, “Wait, this is my fault; I'll go. I asked him to do it.”

“Well, he's going home,” he finalized.

“And that's a bad call.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, we're spinning all our wheels here. We need to keep things moving and we can't do that if you're sitting on information,” he contended.

“This investigation starts at my desk now,” he snapped, “I understand your relationship to this case and I am trying really hard to be polite, but it's not something I excel at.” He walked out and Ryan turned back to Mike. He was disappointed, at himself or Ryan, it wasn't easy to tell.

“Go back to the motel and we'll talk in the morning,” Parker tried reassuring. He didn't say anything and just walked out.

He drove back in silence, which was stupid because it allowed his brain to fill up with thoughts. He was getting thrown off the case because Donovan was too much of a hard ass. They shouldn't keep him out. Joe wanted Ryan to go after him. Keeping him out of the loop was only going to cause more deaths. Besides, none of the followers would talk to the FBI. Ryan was the everyone was fixated on; if they kept him out of information, he could wind up dead. The last thought made him stay in the car a few extra minutes before he got out.

Locking, he looked back to check and make sure it did so. A cluster of men standing just beyond his car made his levels of paranoia notch up. He hurried in and had to keep himself from checking back. Instead, he forced himself to act normal, waiting at the elevator. The woman standing behind him seemed sane enough, but so did most in the cult. He couldn't trust getting in the elevator with her. 

The woman had gotten off on the second floor, and behind her were two of the men that he saw out in the parking lot. Worried and freaking out, it affected his ability to open his door. The woman offered to help, but he got it to work and moved in. He had all the locks in place before he turned around and saw there were three people standing in his room.

He froze. _Shit._

-

Ryan disconnected again when he hit Mike's voicemail. “Mitchell, Mike's not picking up,” he told her, “I've tried him three times.”

“That's not like him; he always picks up,” she said.

_I know._ The worry in his stomach tightened. “Can you ping his phone?”

“Already on it.” She typed in commands and brought up a map. “It says he's at the motel.”

He shook his head. “Something's not right. I'm gonna check it out; let Debra know,” he slipped. She glanced at him for the use of first name. Instead of correcting himself, he ran out.

He got a key from the front desk and went up, hoping that Mike had just turned it off and was sleeping. He knew it wasn't. He opened the door and saw the carnage of the room. Things were destroyed. It was a definite struggle.

_Does Joe know? Did he take Mike in hopes of getting Claire's location out of us? Neither of us know anything and they're not going to give up the location for him. Fuck._

Parker was already heading over before he even called her. Unable to stay in the room, he went down to the parking lot, standing next to Mike's car. Mitchell contacted him and he found the surveillance footage in an email. He watched it, then re-watched it. He didn't recognize any of them; he tried and failed to not focus on Mike. 

She finally pulled in and he passed the phone to her so she could watch. “They want something.”

She nodded, “Claire Matthews.” She dialed Mitchell up on her phone to get more information and placed it on speaker.

The woman reported, “All right, confirmed identities of who were dealing with. Charles Mead, the man who abducted Claire Matthews is one. The other is Louise Sinclair, out of New Orleans, former Blackwater operative.”

“Another overachiever,” she lamented.

“Plates?” he mouthed.

“We put out an APB in a three hundred mile radius of Richmond. If it's out there, we'll find it.”

She looked up when Donovan started talking, “Put the call on speaker.” She complied. “Debra, it's Nick. The image of the license plate isn't perfect. We can make out three, maybe four of the numbers clearly, but local police found nine potential matches of the color, make and model.”

“Where are they?” Parker questioned.

“A couple of them are registered to upstate New York. Two are out of service; police spotted one in a parking lot outside of an abandoned shipyard in Newport Harbor.”

“That's it,” Ryan stated.

“How do you know?”

“Timestamps is about ninety minutes ago; that's how long it takes to get to the Harbor. They also need someplace quiet for whatever they're going to do.”

“Sounds like a hunch,” Nick protested.

_I'm doing a lot more than you, fucking...._ Parker grabbed his arm because he started making noises in the background. “It's a good one; we're going to head over.”

“That's my call.”

“So make it,” she snapped.

There were five seconds of silence on the other side. “Fine. Go.” Ryan jumped in the passenger seat and waited for Parker to start driving. He checked the gun he still had from being deputized and held it to keep himself from watching the video again. _Hang in there, Mike._

-

He focused on small things to keep himself from panicking. They took his jacket and it was starting to get chilly. Everyone was staring at him. Guy in the white shirt and jeans, _description fits Charlie, the guy that took Claire before_ , looked angry with him. The woman had a slightly hungry look in her eyes. The guy that looked to be the head of the group had disappeared. _Joe couldn't do this himself so he probably sent his number two. That's gotta be Roderick._

The disappeared one showed up, walking from behind a pillar. “Agent Weston, welcome to our little,” he motioned, “Slice of paradise.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “You are?”

He blinked in surprise. “I'm your host for tonight's main event,” he cheerfully said, “Here's how this works. I'm going to ask you a few questions; you're going to answer them, truthfully.”

_Yeah fucking right._ “And if I don't?” he asked, feeling more annoyed than scared.

“That's where it gets fun. See, we have a little game we like to play, a fight sport.” He turned to the woman, who was smiling. _Those two are together._ “You lie, we begin a round. You lie some more, it gets worse.” Okay, now Mike could get a little freaked out. He remembered the investigation on the fight clubs. All of the people around him have more training than anything he could get at the FBI. “So, tell me, where is Claire Matthews?”

He laughed. _Seriously, they think I'm just going to tell them. Even if Dad wasn't in love with her, I wouldn't tell._ “Is that what this is about? Sorry, she's in protective custody; no one knows where she is,” he lied.

“Bzzzt. That's a lie.” _No shit, Sherlock._ “Round one. Ding ding.”

Charlie walked over and he didn't notice until the man smashed his fist into his face. The force knocked him on his back. He groaned, feeling the sharp pain going through his jaw. “Come on now; you need to get up,” he insisted. _No thanks. I'm gonna stay here. It's not fun for you guys to kick someone when they're down and it keeps me from being hit._ “Big boy, gonna have some fun.” 

Two men picked him up so he was on his feet. He used the momentum to hit Charlie. He got an arm around him, trying to keep out of his way. He got several elbows to the stomach to force him to let go. He got another hit to the jaw and kept back, figuring on how to fight the guy. “Match on our hands here,” Roderick announced.

“Rah, rah, pick it up boys,” she urged, “Let's see some real blood.”

Mike used the small distraction to get a punch to the face. He then rushed him, getting more hits to his chest. The guy was too big for him, and he couldn't do much. He received a knee to his chest and felt a couple of ribs protest. He retaliated with a few kicks as well. After a few more punches, Roderick stopped them. “You want to end this? Tell us where Claire is.”

He shook his head, and stopped because, ow. “I don't know anything,” he panted.

“You think we don't know about you,” he said, “Agent Michael Emerson Weston, born in Brooklyn, New York. Political science major at Wesleyan, then three years at Quantico studying high-profile personal security.” _They don't know about Mom and Dad. Shit, they're fucking clueless. Thank god they're fucking clueless._ “You know everyone; you know everything about FBI protective custody.” He smiled at him, indulgent. “You know where they hid Claire.”

He grinned, “You know everything about me, and I don't know anything about you. Roderick?” His smiled disappeared. Mike wasn't supposed to find out about that. “Isn't that what they call you?”

He definitely wasn't happy now. The woman had disappeared and came back with two pipes. “Same question, second round. Where's Claire?”

He shook his head again, because he didn't learn the first time. “I don't know. They didn't tell me that; why would they?”

“Round two's gonna hurt,” she informed, clanging the pipes.

He backed away, understanding what was going to happen. “Ding, ding.” Charlie dove for his pipe first. Mike didn't get away in time for a hit to his arm. The next hit was his head, and he groaned as he fell down. Round two was worse. _Mom? Dad? When are you getting here?_

Roderick stood over him. “Come on, come on. Ring a ding ding.” He looked up at him, wondering what he could want. “It's not over until you stop breathing.” He grabbed his hair and picked up his head. He moaned at the pull, the slight pain magnified. “You're still breathing.” He glared up at him. _Thanks for stating the obvious. I plan on staying this way._ “You got one last chance here. Where's Claire?”

“I don't know,” he repeated, “I don't know. I don't know.” The pain was starting to get to him. He was not going to break in front of these asses, but he wasn't doing well. “I don't know; I don't know.”

“I believe you,” he agreed. Then he bopped his nose, something meant to irritate and confuse. He only groaned again before the man stood up. “Final round.” He backed to the outer ring. “Help him up.”

Two of the men forced him up, but he wasn't standing until Charlie yelled, “Get up!” It caused him to force himself to try. “I'm going to find Claire whether you help me or not.” _Good luck with that._ She brought over two knives. He grabbed one, and the other was thrown by Mike. He bent to get it, and it took a while to move positions. _Maybe if I drag this out, they'll come rushing in. Or maybe, if I drag this out, the group will do worse shit to me._ When he finally was able to stand, he had the knife held up. _Fuck this._ He rushed him, hoping that he could get a stab in first.

Instead, Charlie got his in first. The pain caused him to drop his weapon. The only thing holding him up was the knife and he collapsed when it was taken out, looking down at the blood coating his shirt. _I'm sorry, guys; I'm sorry._

-

Ryan was worried when he didn't see any Followers standing outside. Why wouldn't they have anyone standing guard, ready to report if someone was coming? Perhaps they thought the FBI would come with sirens on and loud. He wanted to rush in and Parker saw it. “I'll call for backup and check the perimeter,” she assured.

It wasn't hard to find the scene. The people surrounding Mike, the knife at his throat being held by Louise. Charlie standing aside and another man that he didn't focus on. She was planning on slitting his throat.

He automatically fired, getting two down before shooting at the others to get more of them before anyone could go back for Mike. He emptied his clip and had to hide behind a pillar when they started shooting back. Then he heard running, and came out to none of the live ones still there.

He dropped his gun in haste to pick Mike up. The bloodstain in the middle of his shirt worried him the most, and he tried to apply pressure to stop it. He started moving in his arms, figuring him an enemy. “Don't move, Mike,” he whispered.

“Dad?” he croaked.

“Ambulance is on the way; Mom's outside,” he reassured, “Gotta stay awake.”

“Can't,” he whispered, “I didn't tell them.”

“Tell them?”

“I didn't tell them,” he repeated. Then he fell unconscious, pain finally driving him out.

“Mike, wake back up,” he ordered, “Michael Emerson Weston.” He tried shaking him a bit, but nothing was working. “Debra!”

She quickly walked over to them, gun still out in case any of the Followers were playing dead. “They're just pulling up,” she reported, using her own hands to place more pressure. “Michael. Wake up.” They didn't have to wait long for two medics to rush in. Parker had to pull Ryan away so they could work on Mike. She forced him out by her car, keeping him from going to the ambulance and standing with Mike.

Donovan himself showed up, getting reports of what happened. He came over to tell them what the injures were. “Several concussion, some internal bleeding, blood lost, he'll need surgery, but the paramedics believe he'll pull through,” he reported. Ryan only met his eyes, and pushed down so much anger to finally nod.

When he walked away, Parker said, “I have to stay here. Supervise.”

“I'm going to the hospital,” he mentioned, getting a ride from a tech who was going over to collect his clothes. 

He's kept in the visitor's room while they operate. The coffee cup in his hands doesn't hold anything, just give him something to watch and play with. He was finally allowed to see him after they started wheeling him out. The single room already had two guards on it and he walked in and took the only available chair before sitting close to the bed. Mike latched on him when they set up everything. “I didn't tell them anything,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I heard, buddy,” he mumbled back, “Go to sleep, okay. Staying right here.” His hand clenched and Ryan carefully placed his own inside, mindful of the IV port. He calmed, going back to sleep.

Parker walked in, watching the two of them. The coffee cup had disintegrated and thrown away. She closed the door before moving toward them. “How long has he been out?” she inquired. 

“About an hour. Why did he keep saying he didn't know anything?”

She sighed, “He was with the protective custody division; he's the only one that knows where Claire is.” Ryan turned back to Mike, a heavy weight settling as he realized his son protected the woman he was in love with. “I have to get some sleep. Are you staying here?”

“Yeah.”

“At least go by the motel to change and shower.” He nodded his agreement. She ghosted a hand over his shoulder before leaving.

_2003_

_Hospitals were crap places to wake up. Monitors and people walking around, talking in sharp, hushed voices outside of rooms made for horrible background noise. Ryan cracked his eyes open into harsh light and closed them again. The new pacemaker they implanted during the surgery felt awkward under his skin. There was an IV port in his left hand and a clip on his right._

_A snuffle made him roll his head to the right. A head of spiked-bedhead hair was pillowed on two arms that made room on his bed. There was a sleeve hanging out from a small space out of the arms. Another snuffle and the head turned so he could see Mike's face, sleeping peacefully if not comfortably. He raised his arm, a feat since it made itself feel heavier than usual, and rested it on his hair, playing with the remaining spikes and messing them up._

_Mike groaned and started waking up when he felt someone playing with his hair. Jenny was going to come by later and pick him up after her shift. Instead, he saw his Dad had finally woken up. He smiled. “Dad, you're awake.”_

_“Yeah,” he rasped. Mike winced when he heard the dryness of his throat and poured water into one of the glasses before grabbing the straw and holding it nearby his mouth. He rolled his eyes, but took a few sips before waving it away. “Why aren't you in school?”_

_“You were stabbed and you almost died,” he reminded, “You really thought I could just stay with Mom after that?”_

_“No, just...” he stopped, trying to keep the sadness he saw welling up down, “You're with her because being with me is dangerous.”_

_“She's an agent too,” he argued._

_“Yeah, but they don't come after her like they do me,” he fired back. He had to calm himself down; the monitor was registering his heart rate was elevated and he didn't want the nurses to throw Mike out. “Where's Mom?”_

_Confused, he answered, “She couldn't get time off. Something she's working on.”_

_The distraction worked, calming both of them down.“Where are you staying?”_

_“With Jenny.”_

_“How's school?” He grinned, and started explaining about his classes. His hand had slipped off his head and landed on his shoulder when he sat up. It was an effort to keep it up there. Mike must have felt something and laid back down, placing his own hand over his wrist to keep it in place. Jenny watched from the door, not wanting to break up the only time of bonding they had in a couple of years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew this was going to be one of the longer ones. I also wrote my own flashback.
> 
> And if you notice, Mike was now born in Brooklyn, New York.


	9. Love Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is smaller than other chapters. Hopefully, it's still okay. I uh, don't really write romance.

Ryan did as Debra suggested, showering and changing before meeting her down in the parking lot. He was slightly surprised when they showed up at an FBI field office instead of the detention center. The reason became clear when they walked into a conference of several higher ups. The conference turned into what Donovan declared an inquisition. They were pissed. Joe was playing the shit out of them. One of their agents had been kidnapped and beaten for information. There were dozens, maybe hundreds. People were being killed; the media was making the public scared.

The entire thing ended and both walked down silently to go back to work. “That was worse than expected,” she mocked once outside.

“Too many dead people and being played like fools. PR nightmare,” he commented. Donovan came up behind them and needed to talk to Parker, alone. _When will this guy learn?_ He watched from the car mirrors and whatever she was told, it wasn't making her happy. She came and joined him when they finally ended their talking. “So, what's happening?”

“They're moving control to DC.”

He looked over at her. “That's not it, is it?”

“I am to 'hold your hand'.”

He snorted, “I thought we were past that phase.”

“Oh, God. Don't you start flirting with me,” she choked.

He averted, “Don't worry, I'm not.”

“Good,” she ended. 

_Jenny thought it was just another off time. That's how she and Debra described it when they stopped dating each other and found someone else that could handle their broken pasts. At least for a while. Every time they got back together and split, things became worse. The fighting was the same, but on meant they felt like neither of them loved each other and off felt like they didn't care as friends. After throwing out the notion they were only doing this for Mike, they realized it would never work out. No on-off times. They officially ended it altogether._

The rest of the drive was silent and both split up after getting to the detention center. Ryan was put to work answering phones, mining for possible tips. Mitchell was a good sport, apologizing for the one from Dallas. His cell rang instead of the desk phone and he answered, “Ryan Hardy.”

“Hello, Ryan,” Joe greeted.

_Bastardbastardbastardbastard...._ He looked over at Mitchell. “What can I do for you, Joe?” he asked.

She started tracing, headphones and speaker in place to overhear and conversation recording. “I just wanted to see how your friend, Agent Weston, was doing. I heard that he took quite a beating.”

He thanked whatever Gods, Goddesses and or higher deities around that Joe didn't know their true relationship. “He's expected to make a full recovery.”

“Oh, oh, that's good, good to hear.”

“Sorry about your friends, though. They're kind of, dead,” he deadpanned. He knocked on the glass to get Parker's attention. That grabbed everyone else's as they started filtering in.

“That's okay; I have more,” he revealed.

_Yeah, we know that._ “What do you want, Joe?”

“You know, just a chat. I'm feeling a bit down.” He rolled his eyes. “Tell me, do you miss Claire, Ryan? I know I do. Ironically, you're the only person who really understands how I feel at the moment, being that we both love the same woman.” Parker stared up at him, wondering what the fuck Joe was doing. He wanted him to really stop talking. However, that would have been counterproductive and they need the line to stay on. “Why is love so punishing, Ryan?”

He moved the phone from his ear and bent down to Mitchell's shoulder. “Please tell me you're getting something,” he hissed.

“He's on a satellite phone; it's sending me to Singapore,” she informed.

“Link to Homeland; see if they can't intercept,” Parker provided.

Joe continued lecturing. “Love's elation always seems to turn to pain. How true the adage, 'Love hurts.' Tell me, how much hurt can one man endure? At what point does he break? You must let me know.” Ryan looked over at Parker, concern painted on her face. Worry or possibly fear was on his when Joe hung up. What did the man have planned?

The call out to a murder in a diner happened an hour later. Her friend was still talking to the detective that was on the scene. Ryan heard the message that the killer passed on. He was listening further when she asked why her friend Claire had to die. _Claire._ “Sorry,” he apologized, bending down to talk to the woman. “Your friend, Claire Dobkins, was she married?”

“She was separated,” she said, “Why?”

“What was her maiden name?”

“It was Matthews.”

Now he knew why Joe had asked. It was a warning of sorts. He spotted Donovan and moved over to him. “You need to make sure Claire is safe,” he insisted.

“She is safe; we moved her to a new location after Weston's attack,” he reassured.

“Check, confirm.”

“She's safe, Ryan.”

_No, she's not. No one is safe._ “She can't be exposed to any media; this could kill her.”

“You're overreacting.” _Overreacting? Overreacting! Have you seen what the fuck these people are doing?_ “You need to let me do my job.”

“Then do it.” The two stared until Ryan walked away. Parker followed. Before she could ask how he was doing, he looked back at her. “He mentioned Mike.”

“I ran checks on all the guards that are posted at his door,” she mentioned, “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” he grumbled.

_1995_

_“I don't think we work well,” Debra prompted, drinking a glass of wine._

_Ryan looked over to her, still finishing his cake slice. Mike had been taken by Ray and his wife for Ryan's birthday night. “I thought we were doing great,” he pointed out._

_“Yeah, as friends. Or friends with benefits,” she stated. “Neither of us can keep up the boyfriend and girlfriend thing. Not for long.”_

_“So, you just want to give up?” he accused._

_“I don't want us to get to a point where all we do is fight. I'm not saying completely cut each other off.”_

_“You're saying no to romantic.”_

_“Yeah.”_

“How much hurt can one man endure?” Ryan muttered, bringing up Joe's words again.

“He's trying to break you,” Parker restated.

“By targeting women with his wife's name,” he brought up. “How many Claire Matthews can there be? Wouldn't they've been harassed during the trial? Someone mistakes them for her.”

“There's probably a list somewhere,” she hypothesized.

“Made by a fan.” Both moved outside so they could get back to the center and start finding these women.

Donovan arrived just as they were gathering the information on Claire Matthews. Another agent brought the information on Sinclair and Amanda Porter, the woman who murdered the victim. Ryan listened with half his hearing. Apparently, the woman wasn't a fan of cheaters, her own husband and his mistress killed and dismembered.

He stepped up with information on possible targets. “There are eighty-seven Claire Matthews in the U.S., fourteen in the state and five in the Richmond area, including Joe Carroll's ex. We're finding them now,” he listed.

“Claire Matthews on Monroe Drive, she's safe. Local PD have her,” Mitchell reported.

“All right, that's one. We have three more to find,” he exclaimed, “Let's go.” Everyone scattered and tried to find the women before they became potential victims.

They were too late for a woman that had been pushed out of her window, with a wine opener jammed in her collar. Donovan handled the media, passing along Amanda's photo and description. Ryan watched it while Parker was on the phone with someone. She finally finished and walked over. “We found another Claire; she's being protected,” she informed.

“One left,” he muttered. “Something's off. It's too.... pedestrian. Why did Joe call me up and foreshadow what was going to happen?”

“He can't have his wife; he'll punish the guy that took her away.”

She pointedly stared at him. “Maybe this isn't about me; he could be trying to lure her out. If she knew this was happening, she would offer herself up.”

“She doesn't know anything about this. I believe Nick when he said she has no media access.”

“I hope you're right.”

The two of them headed to the mobile unit. Mitchell was already set up and searching while waiting. It didn't take long for Donovan to disperse the impromptu media conference and take lead. “Amanda Porter kills her husband and his mistress in a single act of rage. How does she escalate to mission killer on a murder spree?” he questioned.

“You're forgetting about the cult, and Joe. This is her chapter of Joe's book. These murders are public statements. This is Joe's theatrics; the weapons are props. This is a cult member using the leader's playbook complete with romantic underpinnings. 'Love hurts,'” he explained. 

“So, Carroll makes two attempts to get his wife back,” Donovan brought up, “Both failed. So, now he's making public statements. Why, to get back at you?”

“It's what he wants me to think,” Ryan said, “I think he's speaking directly to Claire, trying to lure her to out of protective custody.”

“That hasn't happened. I have confirmation she is not aware of this.”

That was some small sense of relief. Parker came back in with news. “Just spoke with the roommate of our missing Claire Matthews. She's a student at Thurman Community. The roommate says she's at some school festival just off campus. Left her cell phone so no one can reach her.”

“Let's go,” Donovan ordered, “Get every available agent there now.”

The large crowd worked against them as they tried to find the young woman before Amanda could. The agents immersed themselves. Ryan had a hard time finding anyone in the large party. Another sweep across their heads and he spotted one without a mask. It was Louise. He started homing after her. She spotted him and started escaping from the crowd so she could run.

He chased after her, and lost her. He kept moving the way he thought she was going and found a victim of one of the women. Already on the phone, he got Parker over quickly so he could chase after the women. He heard gunshots and ran faster to see Sinclair about to head into a building. “Stop right there! Hands in the air!” he shouted, “Drop the weapon.”

“And if I refuse?” she tested. She honestly didn't believe this washed up man would kill her. Either that or he wouldn't be quick enough to do it.

“I will shoot you dead.”

“I don't think you have the-” she pressured. Ryan shot her once, hitting her in the heart. He should have not killed her, but she wouldn't have been any help in finding Joe. _She was going to kill Mike. That's a good enough reason._ He raced inside to find the woman before Amanda could kill her.

He barely caught glimpses of her, and shot when he could. Unfortunately, she caught up with the young Claire before he could get to her. “Drop the gun,” she forced, “Do it!”

“Let her go,” he said.

“Kick it away.” She pushed the nail gun on her until he did. Then he repeated his request. “No. She has to die so you can be punished,” she denied. “You slept with Joe's wife, and between you and me, I don't take that lightly.”

“Let her go; she's not Joe's wife.”

“It's a freaking metaphor, Ryan!” She shot the gun at him and he managed to dodge it. He saw Parker leading a few agents in. So did she. “Tell them to stay back.”

They backed away even without his encouraging. “Now you got to let her go. Hey, kill me.”

“No, I have to kill her. Love hurts, Ryan. That's the theme here.” _I know far more about that theme than anything people think of._ “Joe Carroll gets a happy ending. You don't get one; cheaters don't get happy endings. My husband didn't get one.”

_Claire wasn't with Joe. They divorced; it's not cheating. Don't you know anything?!_ He could not yell this at her. The young woman was angry and she still had a hostage. “You're right; it was a mistake. I shouldn't have done it,” he told her.

“Then why did you?” she asked, “Why? Why would you do it?”

“Because I love her.” _And she wanted someone to make her stop thinking about the man she thought she married. She wanted someone she could trust._

“Thank you; that was very honest.”

“And now, do something for me, because you're right. I do; I need to be punished.” He moved closer. “Come on, kill me. I still love her and I can't stop being in love with her. The only way you and Joe are going to get a happy ending is if you kill me. So, just do it. Take the nail gun and shoot me in the head. Come on, you can do it. Now.” He had fallen into light taunting, but she finally swung the gun up at him and he knocked it away. Claire ran and ended up in the arms of Donovan. A couple of agents backed him up and arrested her.

Parker cornered him when they got ready to head to the detention center. “Don't do it again,” she hissed. “I don't care if about the death wish hanging over you and you think it doesn't effect you for some stupid reason. But it's still wracking seeing you be so... careless about your life.”

_1995_

_“You feel guilty.”_

_They're lying in bed, one last night of sex before they completely break up. Ryan's curled up and looking at her. “What do ya mean?” he slurred._

_“You take every single thing that happens as your fault. Like you control everything and if something goes wrong, you feel you have to take the blame.” She looked over at him. “Even the stuff I know is my fault. Even if it's someone else fault.” He stared at her, unable to completely tell her why he feels everything is related to what he did. “I don't know how to stop you from doing that, and I can't deal with it.”_

“Debra...” he tried calming.

“No,” she interrupted, “I mean it. I can't deal with your guilt; I can't see you destroy yourself or give yourself up.” She folded her hands in front of her face after rubbing to set herself right. “We were friends at one point, Ryan. You cut yourself off, but feelings and emotions don't destroy themselves easily.”

He didn't talk while they drove back. After stopping to get his arm bandaged, they finally got to the center. “I want to question Amanda first thing in the morning,” he approached.

“It's not going to happen,” she frowned, “They're already moving her to DC.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “They know nothing. Joe's situated here.”

“I know.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like a failure.”

“You're not.”

“And you're not at fault.” 

Donovan popped out, drinking coffee. Ryan walked away, giving them space to talk. He overheard the comment from the man, and barely heard the returning defense from Debra. _Visit Mike, then back to the hotel._ Instead, he stared at the report online, trying not to fall down the destructive thoughts that crowded in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already started getting into the subject matter for next chapter. Oops. I was going for love that hurts.


	10. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan tries to keep Claire safe, and she's told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I wanted to make up for last chapter. My counter claimed 3,500 words. Also, this is the longest thing I have ever written. I have said holy crap several times.
> 
> I'm not sure if I wrote Mike age-appropriate. I had him at five-six, but I think his behavior is more three to four. Hopefully four to five year olds act like how I've written.

Ryan got in around eight, the crowd outside of the detention center already building. He kept his head down to not draw attention and hurriedly got inside. Parker was already at her office, going through possible leads on the cult. “Hey,” he grumbled.

“Hey,” she returned. “Mike's starting to wake up. Just a few minutes right now.”

“That's good,” he nodded. Both moved over to the conference room to go over new items on the computer banks. Ryan was the one to watch the news coverage, internally wincing at the way they were sounding incompetent.

“Amanda Porter's not talking,” Parker reported, looking over the report that came in from D.C., “Actually she is talking, a lot.”

“What's she saying?”

“She's a Pisces. Her favorite movie is the Notebook. She's an advocate of the death penalty. She believes in creationism over evolution, enjoys seventies soft rock and hates peanut butter, whole milk and Anne Hathaway,” she read off.

Ryan had turned to her when he started hearing the ridiculous things. _That's one way of screwing with investigators._ “They need to let me talk to her,” he managed, trying to keep his amusement off.

“Agreed, but D.C.'s running things. It's their call.”

Donovan walked in, the professional face slipped enough for him to see some worrying emotion on his face. He ignored it at the moment. “Hey, you got to let me talk to Amanda Porter,” he insisted.

“It's not going to happen, Ryan,” he denied.

“The woman knows me; I got to her once already,” he argued.

“He's right,” Parker agreed, “He should be there.”

“If the D.C. Guys can't break her, I'll recommend it. Okay?” he stopped. “We got another problem. Quantico found a portal break in their server.”

“We were hacked?” Parker fumed.

“Where was their fail safe?” Ryan questioned.

“It stalled; the optical lines were interrupted for several seconds,” he explained.

“A worm encrypted with a virus, just like the farmhouse,” Ryan interrupted.

Parker inquired, “What did they access?”

“Telecommunication logs, specifically phone calls to the protective custody division. It's possible Joe made an attempt to trace Claire Matthews' location via our satellite system,” he finished.

“She needs to be moved now.”

“Yes we do, but we need you to convince her of that,” he confessed, “Will you call her?”

_You just told me the FBI was hacked and they were tracing phone calls._ “Using what phone exactly? No, I do this in person. Get me a chopper and from now on I want to be in charge of her safety detail.”

“Like hell you will.”

“Nick, let him go,” she pressured.

“He's not an agent, Debra!”

“It's nonnegotiable.” The three of them had a stare-off until Donovan walked out. Half an hour later, he came back in and told Ryan to get prepared. Being told the address, he drove over to the hotel where they were keeping Claire Matthews. He took in the various cameras and walked up to the room he was told.

The person who opened the door was a marshal from the transport of Joe. “Ryan Hardy? I'm Marshal Ferguson,” he introduced, allowing him in, “Claire's in the next room.”

He nodded and just walked over, trying not to get in the way of anyone. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned. She was the one to reach out, hugging him. “Nobody's telling me the truth.”

He knew that. “What do you want to know? I'll tell you anything,” he granted, pulling back to see her.

“Um, for starters, why was I denied media access?” she asked.

“Joe was targeting women named Claire Matthews in Richmond. Two were killed,” he told her.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” she repeated. “I don't understand why can no one find him. I mean, how does a cult of killers stay hidden this long?”

“Some of his followers are sophisticated. Tactical skills, cyberinvasion, they're on a terrorist level and some are military trained,” he explained.

“And now he's with Joey,” she lamented, “That madman has my son.”

“We're moving you to a safer location.”

“Why?”

“They know you're here.” Her eyes widen in fear and she started gathering the small amount of things that had migrated out of her bag. He watched Ferguson stare at the monitors, then became concerned when he sent some of his men out into the wing. “Is there a problem?”

“My men in the lobby saw a couple of guys that looked suspicious,” he mentioned. They watched the screens as two men in ski masks took down the agents and started searching rooms. “You and Claire go out the back. I got you covered.”

He agreed, “Okay. Stay with me.” Ushering Claire out, they ran to the car he had taken to the hotel. He was getting out the keys when Claire was attacked on the other side. 

The attacker had his gun out and pointed at her head when he came around. “Back off, drop the gun,” he ordered.

He shook his head. “You're not going to shoot her.” The play was destroyed, and Claire elbowed the man to get away. He shot twice at his middle chest, leaving him down on the ground. He urged her into the car and they drove off.

Only a few minutes away, he pulled behind some trees that made a good cover from the road and got out. “Do you have a phone?” he asked.

“No,” she answered.

He sent a text message to Debra before throwing his at her. “Take out the SIM card.” He rooted around for the GPS on the car, yanking it out and throwing it into the grass.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace safe.”

-

Parker looked down at her phone when the text message alert chimed. Going off-gird w/Claire. Can't track me. _Goddamnit, Ryan._ Her anger radiated, and Donovan picked it up. “What happened?”

“Ryan. He's disappeared,” she grumbled.

“I don't understand; where is he?” he questioned, following her to the conference room.

“I don't know; he destroyed his SIM car, deactivated the GPS on his car.”

“He's being smart. He's worried about being traced, so he must have Claire. Where would they go?”

She started going through the possibilities. “Brooklyn's a four hour drive.” She dismissed it entirely. If they knew about it, Joe would know. He probably had a couple of members waiting. _Where could he have gone?_

Mitchel distracted them both. “Hey! FBI surveillance footage is in. There are a total of four dead at the scene, including Marshal Ferguson,” she informed. The computer highlighted two of the men. “I have face recognition.”

“Let's get IDs. We need to find them before they find Ryan,” she urged. She kept trying to figure out where Ryan could go that would be off-grid. _Wait, I think I know where._ Knowing that she couldn't share with anyone around her, she kept it to herself.

_1990_

_They were in the middle of one of their dating times. Debra smiled as she watched Michael played with the stuffed dog Ryan won him at the fair a while back. The parking lot of the Academy was filled with other cars, all celebrating the graduating class. The spot she picked wasn't that far, but it still required a couple of minutes to walk. “Come on, Mike,” she voiced._

_The venue was almost packed, and more people were crowding in. She had to search quickly for Ray and Jenny. The younger woman caught sight of them and waved them over. “Hey, there's Aunt Jenny,” she motioned. The child ran over to her and launched at her legs, proudly showing the stuffed toy he still held._

_“Hi, Debra,” Ray greeted, becoming Mike's target next. He lifted him up and held him on his lap so Debra could sit down._

_“Where's Dad?” Mike asked, looking up at her._

_Jenny pointed out somewhere in the middle at the front, “Over there.”_

_He tried to jump off Ray's lap and walk over. “Wanna see Daddy,” he whined when he wasn't released._

_“You can see him in a few minutes,” Debra distracted, using the dog to stop his efforts. He grabbed it quickly from her hands and played with it until he saw his Dad._

_The speeches were long and standardized. Debra hoped she could drown hers out when she graduated in a few years. They politely clapped through the first amount of names being called up. There were a fair amount of loud clapping and cheers for some. They were hushed quickly. Ryan's full name was recited, and Mike kept waving about when he walked across and back down to the seats. After a few more honors, they finally declared the group graduates and official agents. The cheering finally died down after a few minutes and the grads were allowed to find family members._

_Mike was the first to see him, squealing and getting out of Ray's hold to rush at his legs. “Heya, buddy,” he grinned, picking him up and walking over to the group._

_“Congratulations, Ryan,” Jenny and Ray chorused._

_“Yeah, congrats,” Debra echoed, kissing him for a couple of minutes._

_“I deduce,” someone barged in, “That this has been lost by this little guy.” Another man, slightly larger than Ryan, came up with the stuffed toy that must have been dropped at Ryan's feet. He held it out to Mike, who risked losing a clutch to grab the toy._

_“Thank you,” he mumbled, holding it close._

_“This is Tyson,” Ryan introduced._

_“It's a pleasure,” he greeted. “Now, who's the one that has to deal with him on a day to day basis?”_

-

It took a couple of hours, but Ryan finally pulled down a long road and up to a house situated a few hundred feet away from any road. “Is this the place?” Claire asked, getting out of the car.

He looked over at the front door and smiled at the person walking out. “I hope so,” he commented. “I'm looking for a guy named Tyson.”

The man laughed, “What the hell are you doing here?” He hugged him as tightly as he could with one hand, the other occupied by a shotgun. He broke it off after a few seconds.

He introduced, “This is Claire.” He shook her hand and seemed to be evaluating her. After they finished, the three went inside. Tyson placed the gun by the door, easy to get to if he needed.

Settled as well as they could be, she asked, “So, how do you two know each other?”

“We went through Quantico together,” Ryan mentioned.

“And I've been stuck with him ever since,” he joked, “Tried to get rid of him. Yeah, I dumped him out on the road a couple of times, but he found his way back.”

“Are you still with the Bureau?” she inquired.

“I'm no longer an agent,” he said, “In fact, I'm no longer alive thanks to a certain crime syndicate.” He handed her a drink. “I now live in the wonderful world of nonexistance.”

“Tyson's been in witness protection for four years,” Ryan explained, going off to get his own drink.

“So you did the right thing coming here. This is a safe place.” He turned to talk with Ryan. “Talk to me, who's trying to kill you?”

“Three of Joe's Followers took out a motel of federal agents, but we lost them.”

“No one's gonna find us here,” he stated.

He nodded, “Thanks.”

“Hey, that's what friends are for.” He changed topics. “It is really good to see you. Does she know?” he inquired.

“No.”

The smile on Tyson's face was almost evil. _No, no, not yet._ “How are Debra and Mike?” he questioned.

_Damn it._ “Debra's fine. Mike...” he paused, looking over at Claire. There really wasn't a way to tell him without alerting her to the fact an FBI agent, his son, had been kidnapped and beaten for her location.

“Wait, Agent Parker and Agent Weston?” Claire asked, “How do you know them?”

He sighed. Tyson mouthed Agents? This was not how he wanted to tell Claire. “I met Debra in eighty-five. She- I got her pregnant. Mike's our son.” He turned to his friend. “Debra's the cult expert. Mike did his thesis on Joe.”

He snickered, “Like father, like son.”

“Yeah, don't remind me.”

“How are they allowing that?” Claire pondered, “Aren't there rules against family members working together?”

“Only if they know the people are related,” Tyson pointed out, “You are now part of a select group of people that can claim that knowledge.”

Claire thought about what she had been told. “Jenny, you...” she listed.

“My niece,” Ryan finished, “Ray knew, but he died on nine-eleven. Debra's sister might know; I can't remember.” She tried to process what she had been told. He left to clean himself up, leaving the two in the living room.

“So, you guys are pretty close,” Tyson mentioned, “I'm not gonna lie; I know the story.”

“Yeah.” she drew out.

“Or as close as anyone can get to him. Debra had a tough time with him when they were dating, but Mike was able to bring him out of his destructive tenancies. At least, he once did. He pushes everyone away, possibly even more now. I just refuse to budge. That's how it is with him. Refuse to budge. He can't quite bring anyone else inside. This goes further back than Joe Carroll.”

“Yeah, I know about his family.”

“He tell you about his death curse?”

She nodded. “Yeah. What about other women?”

“There were some. Debra and Ryan didn't officially end until ninety-five, but there were moments when they weren't dating and he had someone. There have been some good ones.”

“No one serious?”

“His last one, Molly, she wanted to be serious. Sweet girl too. She tried, held on as long as she could. You know the drill.” She agreed. “But, let's face it. If he couldn't go there with you, she didn't stand a chance. So, was there anyone serious? Yeah, you.”

Ryan chose that moment to walk back out. “Okay, okay, what lies are you telling about me now?”

Tyson said, “Girl talk, none of your business.” Claire walked to the table and felt something in the pocket of her sweater.

“Ah, is that right?”

“Ryan,” she said, staring at the item.

His smile faded when he saw the item. “What is it?”

“I don't know; I found it on my sweater.”

_Tracker,_ he winced. “They must have tagged you when Joe's guy jumped you at the motel.”

“Does that mean they know we're here?”

“Yeah, they know.”

Tyson started collecting the shotguns and ammo he had stored around the house. Claire felt bad; this man was here for his protection and she had destroyed it. “Hey, Ty, I'm really sorry for bringing my problems into your home,” she apologized.

“I owe the guy,” he stopped, “Ryan has saved my life more than once, and he's not one to ask for help so him coming here means a lot. I'm glad you came.”

Ryan walked in. “Well, if they're out there, I didn't see them.”

“I have a state of the art alarm system out there.”

“These guys are better than that. They were carrying micro Uzis and wearing vests.”

“Well, we're short on ammo, so we better make these count and this will blow right through their vests. We just got to surprise them with a trick or two.”

“What'd you have in mind?”

-

Claire didn't mind the room she was in. If it was a better time, she would fully appreciate it. Instead, she was just jittery, waiting for the inevitable. Ryan kept staring outside. “Anything?”

“No, not yet.”

“So, we just wait?”

He turned around. “I want you to stay up here, lock the door, barricade yourself in. We're going to be right downstairs.”

She stood up to face him. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I'll be okay when we're out of here and when you and everyone else are safe.”

“No, I mean, I know you have this theory that everybody dies on you.”

“It's not a theory,” he averted.

“Well, it's not reality, either,” she countered.

“Okay, is this really the time to talk about this?”

“I don't know. Is this the time? You tell me. When is there ever a good time for us to talk about anything?” He wanted to leave, but she didn't think she would yet. “Why didn't you call me? Eight years, why didn't you call?”

_Because I was a mess and you didn't need that. Nobody needed that. Mike and Debra never even saw me during those years._ “I told you; I'm your past. You need to move forward.”

“What if you are my forward, Ryan? I mean, look at us. We're so screwed up; we're damaged. Who else is out there for either one of us?”

“I'll know, I'll know what I represent to you.”

She had to pause for a moment. “Well, what if I told you I love you?” she told him.

He looked around, trying to figure out the answer he wanted to give. _Please, let me in._ “I'd say that's a really bad idea. And that I love you too.”

After a heart-warming moment, Ryan walked down to met Tyson. The entire house had gone dark to better see anyone moving around outside. Tyson was the first one to shoot, nailing the idiot that was walking around. “I told you it would work.”

He only hoped it would hold out. “Guard the back; I'll check on Claire.” He went back to the stairs and started to walk up when he heard a crash. He carefully moved forward, ready to shoot at anything that didn't belong. The floor creaked behind him and he spun around to see Claire.

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” she apologized, “I heard a gunshot; what happened?”

“There's two more of them outside,” he said. Someone started pounding on the door and both jumped. “Wait here.” He moved quietly up to the door.

“I know you're in there, Claire,” someone shouted through it. “Come out. No one else has to die.” _You do_ Ryan thought. “No more bloodshed. I'll take you to Joey. You just come out.” There was tapping coming from the window. Claire turned around and saw a man standing outside. Screaming, she alerted Ryan, who rushed down to check on her before seeing the man run off.

Tyson must have heard her scream, because he ran back in, shouting if Ryan was all right. They heard a few more shots that had Ryan running. Tyson was still standing. “Hey, Ty, Tyson. Did you get him?” he asked.

“No,” he breathed, turning around so both could see the damp spot on his chest. “He got me.” The two of them supported the man back inside. Deeper in the house, Ryan ran around for things to stop the bleeding. They barely kept the man awake when the two remaining men started trying to get in again. Ryan handed her his gun before getting another and searching.

He didn't get far when he heard the front door open and close. “Damn it.” He ran as fast as he could to see Claire in the Follower's car.

She mouthed 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you.' He figured on chasing it, getting back to his car. It sat low, and he saw the tires had been slashed. “Damn it!” She left him. She allowed herself to be taken. After Tyson had been shot. After Mike had been kidnapped and almost killed for her whereabouts. Worried about Tyson, he ran back in the house.

“She left,” the man groaned, seeing his friend run back in.

“I know.” He moaned when Ryan started putting pressure on the wound. “I have to call for an ambulance. My car's got flats.”

“Doesn't matter. I think this house is unsecure,” he said, “Damn, really liked it.” He tried not moving and waited for his friend to call for an ambulance and hang up. “What happened to Mike? You never told me; you didn't want to talk in front of her.”

“He.... he was kidnapped and beaten for her whereabouts. He almost died,” he cracked.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “He's good now?”

“Hospital, healing.”

“He's your kid; he'll pull through.” He fell unconscious.

“Tyson! Hey, wake back up,” he urged, slapping his cheeks. “Goddamnit!”

It took a good fifteen minutes for an ambulance and a cop car to get to the house. There was also a marshal that ended up showing up after, wanting to know who the hell compromised the area. Ryan answered everything he could without needing to call Debra over information which might be vital. _Shit, I'm going to have to report that in._ The marshal gave him a ride to the hospital, using the time to question him.

He waited around for the surgery to be finished, then hung around. His phone rang, the SIM card replaced back in. Joe wanted to gloat. He wanted to scream, yell at the man. Instead, the only thing he allowed out was grief and pain. Nothing constructive came out of it. He ignored the other calls.


	11. Whips and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan runs away and Parker has to bring him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... I haven't been very motivated in writing this. Maybe it's because of the 'No Mike' part.
> 
> Also, thanks to this chapter, I now have the beginnings of how the two met. I just gotta figure out some things.

The knock to the door was both unexpected and not. Someone from the FBI had come to collect Ryan. He purposely went missing after checking on Tyson. The man never woke, and he wanted to wait, but another part had gotten sad and angry. He pushed reappearing thoughts aside and went to see who was at the door. He almost hoped for a probie so he could scare the guy or girl off and drink so more.

No such luck, as Parker was the one that came. He opened the door and just looked at her. She sighed, “I thought when we broke up I wouldn't see that sight again. Probably too much to ask for pajama bottoms.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

_Are you serious?_ “How's Tyson?”

“Okay, gonna take some time to heal. Mike?”

“Wondering where you've been. He stays awake for longer now. Sketch artist has been with him. Interviewed by Donovan, he wouldn't allow me.” He stared at him. “Don't disappear,” she voiced. _Don't worry us. Don't disappear on us. We do not need to find you dead._ He backed away from the door and allowed her in. “Put something on.”

She used his computer to log in somewhere while he finally succumbed to putting on something to cover up. She found the hidden link and clicked on it to show him the video. “We found an encryption code that accesses this website,” she informed.

“This is how they recruit?”

“My thought, they start online, then move to real life. Then there's a test of dedication. Cyberteam placed the server in lower Manhattan. They have to go block by block with the IP address.”

“When will they know?”

“Within a few hours,” she stated. He brought over two mugs of coffee and she was pretty sure his was spiked. “How much have you drunk? And don't say not enough. You know it's bad for you. Your heart's likely to give out.” He opened his mouth. “If the next words are 'I don't care', then I'm going to smack you.”

“She still left.”

It went back to Mike, Tyson and him. Both had protected the woman and she still went with the cult members when they attacked. “You know better than anyone not to stand in the way of a parent and their child.”

He nodded. There wasn't anything else to say on that subject. “Joe called me.”

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to cheer me up, gloat.”

“This is about the shittiest thing to say, but you've got to engage him. You're the connection to Carroll.” She ordered, “Get in the shower.”

“No,” he dismissed.

“We're going downtown to find the server, and don't argue.”

He lagged getting over to the bathroom. “At one point, I would have suggested you join me,” he muttered.

“We left that point long ago.” He left and she finished her coffee while waiting for him. Turner called and told her they had a location. Was she close to getting Ryan? He walked out partially dressed with his shirt off still after Turner asked. _He plans this. I swear he does._

They left after she forced Ryan to eat something and were at the site within fifteen minutes. “So, we found their hotspot,” Turner elaborated, “It's a building on the corner; Bandwidth coming from the basement is beyond capacity. It's an after-hours bar listed to a Haley Mercury.”

Handed comms, the leader for the raid unit explained their positions. “All right, Hardy and I will do the exploratory,” she led, “Stay close.”

The inside was still playing out something, but neither were paying attention, just looking for anyone. They got out to what appeared to be a main area of sorts when a woman walked out of the other side. “Can I help you?” she asked, wary.

“We're looking for Haley Mercury,” Parker told her, pulling out her badge.

_That never works; why did you do that?_ “Uh, she's in the office,” she lied.

“Ma'am, stay where you are,” Ryan ordered, but the woman took off. Parker radioed it in while both went after her. The scene of the woman whipping the man made the sign outside a lot of sense as they continued trying to follow the woman. The hallway became confusing as they tried to separate screams to make sure no one was actually being killed.

Ryan was grabbed from behind, being dragged into a room by a large man. Parker was ordering him to let go. That wasn't working, so he jabbed twice and backed out of the room when they realized it wasn't the one they wanted. She pointed out what had to be the office, and went in. The woman had started erasing data from the server, something that Parker stopped once they did find her.

Within a few minutes, the place was cleared out and FBI was going through everything. Mitchell worked on the computer for a few minutes. “There's a ghost server that piggybacks the main server. All her information is buried in her international IPs,” she explained.

“Can you trace the location?”

“It's all moving through countries that have no internet laws; it's a black hole but we can shut it down.”

“No,” Ryan interjected, “Keep it in play; we need to monitor all activity.”

Turner walked in. “This place is messed up. The woman is hardcore; I count fourteen felonies,” he said.

“Are you counting the online business?” Mitchel threw in, “She's running an interactive fetish house.”

That was enough for Ryan. “All right, let's talk to her,” he diverted. They walked back to where an agent had been unsuccessfully interviewing her. “We got this,” he dismissed.

Parker went ahead. “So, how do you know Joe Carroll?”

She laughed, “Is that what this is about?”

“When was the last time you were in contact with him?” he questioned.

“I don't know Joe Carroll and I don't want to know him.”

“Then you need to explain why his cult is using your internet server to hide his online communications,” she explained.

Both realized that the woman had nothing to do with this. “That ass, damn him to hell.” She looked straight at her. “Look, I'm not part of Joe Carroll's cult.”

“You're looking at twenty years,” she told her, “You need to start talking.”

“I'll cooperate, but I want a deal.”

_Yeah, if you got anything._ “All right. Tease us.” Parker had to keep her self from doing something unprofessional, like hitting Ryan. _Oh god, that is a terrible choice of words._ Give us something deal worthy and maybe-”

“You want Vince McKinnley,” she interrupted, “He freelances with me. I have some foreign clients. They're into the hardcore, illegal stuff. I call Vince.”

“Are you aware that Vince is wanted for kidnapping and murder?”

“I had a feeling you'd say something like that. It's those Joe Carroll groupies he got mixed up in.”

“Tell us about his cult activity.”

“I knew he had a Carroll fetish,” she mentioned, “I didn't know there was a cult until I saw it on the news. Vince lives on the fringes. Did you know he and his creepy brother were raised in a militia in the mountains?” She slowly shook her head. “He's had a tough life.” 

_So does a few other people, but they don't do the shit he did._ Parker picked up on whatever the woman had been indicating. “How long did you two date?” she asked.

“Date? Aw, that's cute. No no, we didn't date; we flogged each other. He can be quite submissive when he wants to be.” She stared up at Ryan. _No thanks, not for me._ “He set up my computer and the server. I needed an untraceable Tor server and he knew that stuff.”

He inquired, “Would you be willing to contact him for us?”

“I'll do better than that. I can deliver him for you, if we have a deal.” They looked at each other and nodded before agreeing. She smirked, and led them down somewhere. It was a storage area of sorts. “He uses this address for deliveries. Some guy dropped this off last week.” She pulled out a box. “I was gonna let him know, but then I saw the news. That cult stuff creeped me out.” She moved over to the computer while Ryan started opening the box to see what they had. “Sent, he'll respond in minutes. He always does.”

Parker noted that when she saw him staring at whatever was in the box. “What?”

“Chemicals, explosive. Possibly black market, used in car bombs, hand grenades. It's candy to this guy; he's militia.”

The discovery cost time, as they had to bring in bomb techs and crime techs to gather the items. After getting samples from each of the canisters, the bomb crew destroyed them so they couldn't be used. Getting fake replacements for the box, everyone started setting up. Turner was the one that rigged Haley up, microphone and GPS. “So, you're going to follow Vince, see where he goes?” she inquired.

Parker restated, “All you have to do is give him his package, make some small talk, and send him on his way. We'll take it from there.”

“No worries, I role play for a living.”

Ryan almost snorted. _This isn't the same._ Turner stepped back and declared her wired. “We'll be able to hear everything you say through these ear pieces,” he assured.

“You don't trust me, do you?”

“Not for a second. If something happens, we need some kind of code word.”

“You mean like a safe word.”

_Do you have to put it that way?_ “A code word,” he repeated.

“That's standard around here. Green is go; red is stop. Yellow is whoa, intense, take it easy.”

“So, we'll go with red,” Parker assumed. Leaving her, they got confirmation on the package exchange. “I hope this works.”

“Yeah.”

Everyone evacuated the club, leaving Haley and two agents acting as workers inside along with a couple of regulars outside. Tactical was impatient as day turned to night waiting for him. Nobody wanted to voice calling it a night, but they were thinking it when a car finally did pull up. Everyone shot to attention when they saw the man step out and walk up to the club. “He's in the club,” Parker confirmed, “Someone check his car.”

There was nothing else except wait for the man to get down to Haley's office. “Haley, honey,” Vince announced.

“Hey, baby, you got me freaking,” she told him, “I can't be mixed up in some murder cult.”

“What are you, crazy?” he asked. “The word cult is ghastly inappropriate and offends me.” Ryan huffed at the argument that man was putting up. “We're more of a family.” Nobody knew what was happening in the room, so they could only guess when she started talking about bondage parties and not being able to leave. She wanted him out, her part over.

Except he wanted her to join him. That worried Parker. Was it possible he knew? Ryan kept his face blank. She wasn't sure what he was doing. They saw her come out with him and watched as they placed it in the car. “I've got a clean shot.”

“Hang tight.”

She made it seem like she was worried. Apparently, so was he. He was offering to take her away so the FBI wouldn't catch her. _It's a twisted way of caring for someone._ Parker pondered the idea associated with it when she gave the code word. “We got to move,” she insisted, about ready to jump out of the car.

“Wait,” he stopped.

“Ryan.”

“We intervene; we won't be able to follow him.”

“He could kill her.”

“We gotta follow him; he's all we got.”

“We can't put her life in danger,” she argued.

“He's a direct line to Joe; we'll be right behind her.” There should be ways of separating the two so she'll be safe and they can follow him. Instead, he's pulling out a gun and they're apparently not going to intervene and get the young woman out of danger. _If she doesn't hit Ryan, I will._

The ride took a while. They could still hear what was going on. He stuttered when she asked, and she noted it as something to think about later. He wasn't letting her in. He also started getting suspicious of a couple of cars near them. “He's speeding up and pulling away,” Parker spoke, mostly for those stuck further back in traffic.

“We're not going to lose her; there's a GPS on her wire,” he pointed out.

“That shouldn't matter,” she hissed, covering her mic so they wouldn't hear them fighting. “If anything happens to her...”

“It's on me,” he stepped up, “We're not going to let anything happen to her.” She wanted to believe him. She always did. They ended up outside of an old armory that was still strong, but decaying. Neither wanted to go in, waiting for the backup so they could be organized. Instead, they rushed out once the wire was discovered. Both were listening at her screams and then hearing them echo through the long tunnels throughout the place.

Edging carefully forward, they heard something come toward them and saw a chair with a bound and gagged Haley on it. “She's alive,” Ryan reported, removing the gag. “Where's Vince?”

“He's gone,” she mumbled.

It didn't take long for the rest of their team to make it to the armory. They end up back in the main area that Vince had taken her. Lit up, they could see boxes and shelves piled high with ammunition and other necessities. Haley was pissed off at them. Parker wasn't surprised. “Red, I said red. I said red over and over and over again,” she insisted.

“I'm sorry,” Ryan said, “But we...”

“I don't care; I said red! I could be dead.”

“But you aren't,” Parker mentioned, trying to calm her down.

She explained, “Only because he needed to buy time; he said it would take longer for you to help a live person than a dead person.”

_He knew us too well._ The leader for tactical informed them he had men securing the building. “I want property records ASAP; Get ERT here. I want every inch of this place processed,” Parker ordered. Left alone with only Turner as the other officer, she told Haley, “If you want to hit him, go ahead.” She pointed at Ryan for effect.

She looked between the two, as Ryan glared at her half-heatedly. She just shook her head and walked out with someone from tactical. “Thanks.”

“I was giving her the chance,” she said. Waiting for more people, they decided to take a look first themselves. She ended up over a construction table. “Detonators. Do you think they're planning a major attack somewhere? Or is it preemptive training?”

“Don't know,” he muttered, “But they kept extensive records. Doctor's files, psych evals, endurance scores, deprivation training, combat, tactical. It's boot camp.”

Both were interrupted by the static on their radio. “What is that? Say again,” Ryan questioned.

“I've got three victims in the basement, in a cage,” the officer reported. 

_There were people here?_ Parker led, “We're on our way.” 

“Wait,” he stopped, “Look at this schedule. Deprivation, lockdown, two weeks.”

_They were inductees. Shit._ “Don't open that cage,” she relayed.

He panted, “Wait, what did you say?”

“Do not open that cage! They're cult members,” she shouted. “Let's go.” They made it down to where the man had gone down. There was a couple of gun shot bursts, but they couldn't place it.

Stuck trying to figure out, Ryan split the group up. “Fan out,” he laid out, “Parker, left.” He didn't wait for a response and kept going forward. It was slow going through, making sure they hadn't gotten too far and were waiting for their next victim.

There was another burst and she waited for it to end before radioing. “Ryan, you okay?”

“It wasn't me,” he replied. He went impossibly slower, listening for anything. He got around a corner when he heard a shout. “Debra!” he yelled, moving toward where he thought he heard it. He ended up seeing her take down one, but another had gotten a hold of the large gun and had it pointed at her. He shot her in the back, felling her. He looked up to check and make sure she hadn't been hurt when he saw the other. “Move!” She flattened herself against the wall while he shot twice. He walked over, wary of the last one before physically checking her over.

“Ryan,” she paused. One of the remaining team found them and they walked out before either could do something they would regret. She went over to the ambulance that had arrived for Haley. A small check and she was physically declared fine.

He walked over after the medic left her. “Okay?”

“Hell, no,” she said, “That scared the shit out of me.”

He nodded and sat down. “We lost two men, and those people from the cage are all dead.”

She allowed herself one brief moment to rest against him, before pulling back when a couple of the officers starting watching. “DC's on their way. They'll be here in the morning. We should get some rest,” she discussed.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. Neither said anything else when he took the keys from her and drove to his apartment. “Stay safe,” he said.

“Stay alive,” she responded.


	12. The Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike's back! But he's not completely healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the episode where people commented that Ryan, Parker and Mike were kinda like a family.
> 
> Examples: [Here](http://the-following-blog.tumblr.com/post/47825954561/no-tv-for-a-week-michael-youre-as-bad-as-your), [Here](http://stranglemesenseless.tumblr.com/post/47502909382/mike-parker-and-ryan-are-like-a-cute-little), [Here](http://dopamineandnorepinephrine.tumblr.com/post/47503379521/ryan-parker-are-westons-mom-dad-im-cryin)
> 
> All links go to Tumblr. I have no idea whether the writers of the show originally intended for them to become a small family unit or not.
> 
> And now I'm rambling. Proceed to the chapter.

Mitchell was waiting for Ryan outside of the bunker. “Donovan already here?” he inquired.

“Along with most of the DC office, along with CIA, NSA and a few other blowhards,” she told him, leading him into a room teeming with agents of said various organizations. Parker was talking to someone and Donovan was nearby. “Hey, Ryan, you remember Brad Pitt?” she joshed, Mike's head lifting up to see it was in fact the man walking in. “That was a fight club reference.”

“Yeah, no, I got that,” he retorted, “Almost immediately.” He stood up carefully to face him.

Ryan felt a little glad to see Mike, knowing that if Parker had allowed him to stay instead of sending him back to the hospital or to the motel, he must have been well enough to join again. He still asked, “How are you feeling?”

“You know, it hurts when I walk, or talk, or breath,” he quipped. Then, he turned serious. “Sorry about Claire.” Ryan looked down and he realized he tread on a very sore subject. Instead, he picked up the tablet with the drawing on it. “This is Roderick as well as I can remember. He's five-ten, a hundred seventy five pounds, blonde hair. He's a generic white guy. We put his face through the recognition software, nothing's come up yet. He had a regional cadence, not traditional southern, maybe midwest.”

He looked worried when his hand went up, but he didn't mention it. Instead, he kept going. “Military brat?”

“Well, how else do you explain the military presence? Someone recruited them for Joe; they're not his.”

He agreed. “Do we know who owns this place?”

Donovan walked up behind him with Parker. “Us,” he answered, “It's government property. It's an old armory they closed down fifteen years ago due to environmental hazards.”

Parker sounded a little enthusiastic. It was something he hadn't seen in years. “It's what you thought,” she informed, “A boot camp where they studied and trained. Come see.” She led him into another area where Mitchell was going through the computer. His stomach turned at the methods they were using on the people kept here.

“The explosives, the military training, how does this connect to Joe?” he asked.

“There's more.” She led the way into another part of the armory. Barely lit, he had to turn on his flashlight to help illuminate the wall covered in drawings. Some of them turned his stomach. He recognized several writings and allusions to Poe. He listed them as he spotted them. “Carroll's message is alive and well here. The idea of emotional salvation through death,” she monologued, “He's stealing from other religions. Some of these images and ideas suggest several afterlives, degrees of their own version of heaven. Islamic and Mormon, Scientology, which worries me, because there are things I read about that one.... Three acolytes have committed suicide for Joe. That's their greatest honor, sacrificing your life for this.” She paused for a minute. “You're going to hate me.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It's how they reach the highest level of Carrollism.”

He stared at her. “You gave it a name?” he accused.

“It has to be called something.” He shook his head at ridiculousness of the idea and continued picking out everything he could see.

His phone started ringing when she almost started up again. He held up a hand before answering. “Hello?”

“Ah, Ryan, good morning, how are you?” Joe greeted, “Umm, Ryan, I need your help.”

_Would you like to turn yourself in, Joe?_ “Hello, Joe, what is it?” Parker slid out her phone and walked a little away so she could get Mitchell to start a trace without being overheard.

“I've been getting frustrated. I've been working away on our novel, and as I come towards the end, I'm struggling somewhat with the hero's character arc,” he explained, “The emotional through line, if you will.”

“Well, you're the literary scholar,” he pointed out.

“And you are our hero,” he reminded, “I really don't want you to be the standard stock do-gooder fighting injustice.”

He was laughing, but it wasn't as joyful as he was trying to make it sound. “Is something wrong, Joe?” he questioned, “You sound desperate.”

“Yeah, I need some, some more backstory to help the reader understand what motivates our hero. What defines Ryan Hardy? This plague of death that surrounds you clearly started at a young age with your mother.” _Joe, shut up._ “We know that, but no. What's really interesting is your, your father.” Parker stopped him from walking off. This was always a tetchy subject. He mentioned it once with her and never repeated it. She was the same with her mom. “He was a cop, recently retired when he got gunned down at a local convenience store. Would you mind telling me a little bit about that? How did it affect you? I mean, after all, you were only seventeen at the time.”

_Should you really be talking about being affected?_ Parker shook her head; they hadn't been able to trace him. “What's wrong, Joe?” he inquired, “Are you upset that we found the armory? Yeah, it's quite a setup you got here.” He wasn't talking. This was a very sore spot. “I'm getting closer, aren't I?”

The next thing he heard was the dial tone. He was right. “And?” she asked.

“He's slipping,” he said.

“Good, maybe he'll start being sloppy.” Without anything else to do, they headed back to tell Donovan what they were talking about. Mike listened in without being caught by the boss. He threw a confused look at Ryan talking about the subject. He had never been told about the death of his grandfather, and he never had reason to look it up.

Everyone was interrupted when Mitchell started shouting about a lead. “The military cult peeps, the ones who went after Mike, they're all part of Freedom Thirteen,” she informed.

“Wait, the militia?” Mike questioned.

“The one led by Daniel Monroe?” Donovan added.

“Joe Carroll is associated with Daniel Monroe?” Mike tried connecting.

“You gotta be kidding me?” Parker muttered.

“Someone catch me up; who's Daniel Monroe?” Ryan interrupted.

“He's a black market arms dealer,” Mike mentioned, “Been on the FBI's radar for years.”

“And he started a militia out of West Virginia, violent separatists,” Donovan contributed.

“They were heavily monitored,” Parker finished, “Monroe was and is suspected of black market contraband. They broke up a few years ago.”

“So you think that's how Carroll or someone found and organized his resources?” Ryan combined.

“It explains the entire militant presence,” she finished.

“We need to find him; DC will have tabs on him,” Donovan led, getting his phone out. While he tried to get information from his contacts, the rest of them tried finding addresses of people connected to the old militia. Mitchell had the computer. Parker was going through filing cabinets and Ryan was moving through scattered papers.

Mike was going through a desk that was empty, slamming the drawers back when he didn't find anything. The three of them turned to him when he caused the noise. Ryan was elected to approach him. He made sure he was spotted before asking, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm... I'm fine,” he said.

_Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to allow him back so quickly. I doubt Debra would have allowed him back. It was probably Donovan._ “Because if you need more time...”

“No,” he stopped, walking over to Parker to indicate the conversation was over.

“He's on with CIA,” she reported, “They last tracked Monroe internationally. Trying to get a current location.”

“What about his friends, family?” Mike brought up.

“There was an IP address in the database,” Mitchell described, “Came from a house in Maryland.”

“Property records indicate it's owned by a Gloria and Ronald Fowler,” she added.

“And?”

“Bryan Fowler, their son, is a member of Freedom Thirteen.”

“We need to talk to him,” Ryan concluded.

“No phone, but I do have an address,” Mitchell pitched in, “Who wants it?” Mike grabbed the paper out of her hand and walked off before anyone else could see it. Ryan looked over at Parker, a little amused by the action. She looked worried. “Stay in touch.” The two of them followed him out.

The drive was silent, no matter how much Ryan tried to start a conversation. The flip of situations made him worry. Mike was the one that wanted to catch up, now he wasn't even trying. 

It took them a couple of hours to reach the house. There wasn't even a car outside as the three of them got out and started looking around. Mike immediately went up and started pounding on the door. Ryan looked at the windows, seeing them reinforced and wondering why. Annoyed that no one was answering, Mike moved down to another door. Both cautiously followed behind. After trying to open it, he pulled out a knife and wedged it in between the frame and the door to force it open. “Hey,” Ryan protested, “What are you doing? That's breaking and entering.”

He stopped jamming and forced the door the rest of the way open. “I thought this was all right since you did it,” he prompted, walking in.

Debra pointed at him, “I blame you for that.” She walked in behind him and Ryan checked around before closing the door. Mike had already moved forward, checking out the larger room. Parker decided to check a kettle that was on the stove. “Warm.” Whoever it was was still there. A creak alerted them where they were. Ryan went first, Mike a close second. He carefully walked through, and saw the motion sensor. He stepped over it and took the closer room. Mike checked the other room.

Ryan was tackled from behind the minute he was fully in the room. He reached for his gun after it was knocked out of his hand. Parker ordered, “Freeze.” Before either of them could do something, Mike barged in and punch him. Then he kept punching him until he was unconscious and on the ground. “What the hell was that?” she demanded. He ignored her and walked the furthest back away from the man.

Secured, Parker kept watch while Ryan dragged out a chair. “Sit down,” he urged, moving Mike and forcing him down. He bent so he could be a little more eye-level with him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

“Fuck that,” he hissed, “What's wrong?” Mike just glared at him and he realized he wasn't getting anything. He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and rubbed the base with his thumb. He could feel slight tremors radiating out. _I knew it. This wasn't Debra letting him back._ “Deep, slow breaths, Mike.” He waited for him to actually make the first one, a little hesitant before he set himself into the rhythm he needed. He continued rubbing for a few minutes before Fowler started groaning. He checked to make sure the reaction was going down before standing up and removing his hand so they could confront the guy.

The man realized just how badly he was screwed when he woke up completely. He checked for weak spots in the cuffs, but basically just sat while Parker and Ryan confronted him. “So, Brian Fowler,” she confirmed, “I take it your parents don't live here anymore.”

Ryan asked, “Where's Daniel Monroe?”

“Daniel? Haven't seen that guy in months.”

“He's lying,” Mike stated.

“Yeah, see, the thing is it just seems there's more than one person living here.”

“So?”

“So, we know you were both members of Freedom Thirteen and that you remain friends,” she explained.

“He's not here.”

“So where is he?”

“I'm not doing your job for ya,” he raged.

Mike stood up and hit him again, not happy with the answer. Ryan had to insert himself to stop him from trying again. “Hey, hey, stop,” he muttered, “You can't do that.” He ignored the glare he was receiving.

Parker needed that to stop. “Michael!” she yelled, “Over here, now.” He moved over to the area she was pointing at.

Ryan looked over at the place and then looked up at the newer sensors that were in the corners. “This place is such a dump; what's with all the alarm systems? What do you got so valuable you gotta protect?” He wasn't answering any more questions. _Fine, I'll find it myself._ “I'm gonna take a look around,” he informed.

“I'll get Nick on the phone, get the team down here,” she professed. She looked back and saw Mike watching the prisoner. “Go with Ryan.”

The basement was another series of tunnels, something Ryan felt was becoming a running theme, and not a fun one. Mike turned on the light and nodded toward the entrance for one way. He nodded and took the other. Ryan found a main room and saw the person must have left recently. The click of an automatic forced him to swerve around and get into a face-off. “Don't move,” he asserted, “Drop your gun.”

“Daniel Monroe? I'm FBI; I just want to talk to you.”

“Drop your gun,” he repeated.

“No,” Mike interrupted, coming out behind him, “You drop your gun.”

Realizing he was outnumbered, he reapplied the safety and dropped his gun. “Okay, let's talk.” He walked back in and sat in the farthest chair from the door. The two of them stood in front of him and any possible weapons or escaping.

“So, what is this place?” Mike inquired.

“It's my office,” he commented.

“It's your office, huh? And all these military issue assault weapons I see, they're for your new militia or what?” Ryan shot back.

“There is no militia,” he delivered, “It was dissolved in two thousand nine.”

Ryan guessed, “Okay, so now you're an independent contractor, online sales?”

“Are you arresting me for something? Because I'd like to see a warrant,” he accused.

“We know you've been helping Joe Carroll,” Mike bragged.

“Do you have any proof of that?”

He smiled, “We found the armory.”

Ryan added, “And we connected five of your men to his cult.”

Well, he was screwed. “I have nothing to do with Joe Carroll and his house of psychos,” he conceded.

“House?” he questioned, “What house?”

“I don't want to say any more until I speak with my lawyer.”

“Listen to me, there's not time for that,” he insisted, “You got to tell us now. Where is Joe Carroll? Where is this house?”

“Not until I speak with my lawyer.”

“You need to start talking, now,” Mike challenged. There was a tense moment when a beeping sounded. “What the hell is that?”

“Somebody's down here,” he told them.

He could only come up with one other person. “Parker,” Mike whispered.

Ryan wasn't so sure. “Stay with him; I'm gonna check it out.” He quickly walked out. He didn't want to be away for too long. It wasn't a good thing to be alone at the moment. He passed by a walkway when a gunshot ricocheted just beside him. He held himself on the other side of the door to see who had done it. When the man walked out, he whipped him. 

“Well, this sucks,” Vince complained, looking at his gun.

“Don't try it,” he warned. He still went for it and was shot for his troubles. _Why the hell was he here? Shit, what if there was someone else?_ He moved fast to the 'office'. The body on the floor troubled him and he flipped it to see Monroe, a nasty stab to the chest. Now, he could be worried. “Mike?” The room they had been in was dark, and he had to go around to find the light switch.

Mike was sitting in the middle of the room, tied up. He looked up and saw Ryan standing outside. He was trying to keep a calm facade up, but there was still fear. “Mike.”

He saw the reason for the fear when Joe walked up behind him, placing a hand on one of his shoulders, a knife in the other. _Get your hands off my kid, Jackass._ “Hello, Ryan,” he greeted, “This is an unexpected surprise.”

“Take him out, Ryan,” Mike ordered, “Do it.” He ran over to the door and tried forcing it open. When that didn't work, he got in front of the window right next to it. Joe was still behind him, still on Mike and he waved the knife around. He was giving him the perfect shot.

The window was bulletproof, and his tries only embedded into it. 

Realizing he couldn't get in, he lowered his gun to the ground. _Shit! Shit, what the hell? Where the hell's Parker? She would have been down here if she heard those. Which means someone's got her contained upstairs. Fuck._ Mike looked up at him, fear starting to grow. 

“Tell me, Agent Weston,” Joe chatted, “Did my boys do this to you?” His hand hovered over the cut on his forehead, moving aside his hair to show it off. “Does it, um, does it hurt?” He dug two fingers into the cut, forcing it open a tiny bit.

Mike screamed. It tore through Ryan. He tried getting away, but the hand went deeper in. “Kill him!” he yelled, “Kill him!” Joe stopped digging to pull his hair, stretching out his neck to place the knife next to it as a warning.

_Joe's not going to kill him. He's warning Mike; he can't have him fighting back. But Mike expects to die right now. Oh God, he's scared he's going to killed. And he's worried about what he'll do to me after._ “He's not going to kill you, Mike,” he reassured, “He needs you to get out of here.”

He smiled and pointed the knife at him, “Oh, you are very bright, Ryan.” He moved from behind to go up to the window. Mike was pushed down his fear and spat at Joe in anger, hitting the side of his face. He wiped it off before flipping the knife and hitting him with the handle. He let out a pained noise as his head fell forward. “Now, now, don't be crude.”

“Hey!” he shouted, pounding on the glass, “Why don't you come out here and deal with me, huh? Come on!”

He relinquished his hold on Mike's head, allowing it to drop while he walked up. “No, no, this....” he narrated, “This is not the time, Ryan. Today wasn't, wasn't really meant to be. You know, these chance encounters that we keep having, no matter how enjoyable, they really do have to stop.” He looked out, possibly expecting someone else. He probably knew Parker was around, and he knew she was unavailable at the moment. “Is there anyone else out there with you, hmm? It looks like it's just you and me.”

“No, it's not the time to end yet. You know, the story is still being written, and frankly, it is proving quite challenging,” he explained, “That's what I was calling you about. Your character is in question.” _My character's in question. Great, then leave me alone._ “See, we've got to get it right. The death of your father, that was your defining moment, am I correct?”

_Fuck this._ He decided to see whether or not Joe would believe him. If he could just scare him into running off... “You do realize the FBI's about to descend on this place?” he baited. “You're done, Joe.”

He placed the knife down. “Well, then there's absolutely no reason to keep this battered little boy alive, is there?” he inquired, forcing Mike's head up and getting a grip on his neck. “Shall I kill him? Shall I kill him, Ryan?” Oh God, Joe was choking Mike. He started pounding on the glass to try and get him to stop. _No. No! NO!_

“Dad!”

-

Parker slowly woke up to someone stroking her face. The side of her head was sending shooting pains every few seconds and the touches were glancing off of them. She opened her eyes to see a man kneeling in front of her. “Hello,” he mumbled, careful not to be too loud. She wanted to move her arms, but they were tied down, along with her arms to the chair. _Shit, what the hell is going on? Where are Mike and Ryan? Why is he here?_ “It looks like you took a pretty nasty blow to the nose there.”

Something started clearing, and she recognized him. “Jacob Wells,” she confirmed. He stood up when she said his name. “It's nice to finally meet you. I see you made it out of the farmhouse in one piece. What about your friend, Paul?”

This was a bad topic. “Well, he wasn't so lucky,” he revealed.

“And Emma?” That was definitely another bad area. “Where's she?”

He rummaged through a silverware drawer and pulled out a knife. “Really, you want to chat?” he questioned, slamming it shut. _Oh, he's mad._ “We can be friends and stuff?” He stared at her, unbending. “I am going to kill you.”

“Indulge me then,” she shrugged, “Help me understand what happened to you. Paul and Emma, it's easy to see the troubles in their past, but you... golden boy from a golden family. Not as obvious.” She watched him, unsure of whether she was putting doubt in his head. “Why'd you drop out of medical school?”

“Because I didn't want to be a doctor,” he replied.

“You didn't want to be like your father,” she stated. “Understandable, most people don't want to be like their parents.” _I'm not sure how lucky we are Mike wanted to go into the FBI. At least he knows how to shoot a gun if anyone goes after him, but it just means more will come after him due to his own work._

He wasn't expecting her answer. He turned from her and moved away so he could think. “Please be quiet,” he requested. She kept herself silent.

-

Joe let go in confusion. “Dad?” he inquired, looking between the two of them. Mike was gasping in air to make up from going without. Ryan was watching him, worried, pained.

Relieved?

“What do you mean by Dad?” he asked again. Mike just realized his mistake and kept his mouth shut. Joe wasn't having it, grabbing his head and forcing him to look straight at him. “Agent Weston, why did you just call Ryan Dad?”

“It was a slip of the tongue,” he lied.

“No, no, that was not a simple slip of the tongue,” he denied, “That may have worked when you were in elementary school and mistake the teacher. Now, why did you call him Dad?” He gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut. He grabbed his neck again. “Tell me, now.” With no answer, he started choking him again.

“Stop!” Ryan yelled, pounding on the glass. _Mike's not going to say anything. Joe's gonna kill him before he lets up._ “He's my son!”

He sighed, letting up on the pressure to turn to him, “Do not lie to me, Ryan.”

He confessed, “I got his mother pregnant in college. She was about half-way into the pregnancy when she got a letter from her parents. They had heard about it. She was worried; she had escaped from them and thought they may come and try to take him. When we went to the hospital to deliver, I came up with fake names on the spot. Weston was her fake last name.”

Joe let go entirely. Mike coughed to regain his breathing. “How did you hide him so well?” he inquired, “I thought the FBI would have known.”

“We kept him off the paperwork,” he explained, “Both of us were worried someone with a grudge would get a hold of the information. His school paperwork had the fake names I came up with.”

“And, no one noticed?”

“No.”

He smiled, “Genius. Here I've been writing young Michael as a hero worshiper. He's much more like a young boy following in his father's footsteps.” He glared up at him. “It makes so much sense. Michael is the saint of police officers. His middle name was his mother's idea?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“The hero is a mirror of the villain,” he proposed, “Or is it the villain is a mirror of the hero?” He pondered it a bit more while he thought. “As much as that was delightful information that I really must find out why we never found out, I must get back to your father.”

“Is this really the time?”

“Of course,” he directed, settling in behind Mike. His original plan had been to simply hurt the young man so Ryan would tell him the story from his view. Instead, he placed one of his hands on a shoulder. The other went up to fondle his hair, working through it as if he was a small child after a nightmare. As if it was Joey instead, if he had been able to raise him. “Think of it as the right time to tell your son. I doubt you've told Michael about his grandfather,” he suggested. “He was retired from the Albany PD and went into the corner store during a robbery. Correct?”

Ryan watched Mike, who was trying not to move as much. He glanced up at him and showed how truly freaked out he was. “If you know the story, why are you asking me?”

“Because I have the police reports, but I don't have your memories, your reactions,” he conceded. His hand passed over the forehead cut as a warning. Mike tried moving his head to get away from it. Joe moved his other hand to his neck, holding him in place.

“This was sloppy, Joe,” he criticized.

“This is insane of me,” he agreed, rubbing the bandages and moving some drying blood around. “Your father walked into the store, possibly to buy some candy or grab some small thing for dinner. Where were you?” Ryan wasn't answering. “Now, now, Ryan. Michael should really hear the story.” He dug just a little into the cut. Mike kept his mouth shut, but Ryan caught his pain still.

“I was outside, waiting in the car,” he revealed, the memories popping in and out. “I heard gunshots. I just stood there, and I knew he was going to pull the trigger. But he didn't.”

“You were spared,” he pointed out, “Why do you think that was?”

“He panicked; he was on drugs,” he remembered, “Pure luck? I don't know.”

“Luck? Luck isn't a word you should use, Ryan,” he berated. “What was next?”

He grumbled, “Blood was everywhere; I'd never seen blood like that.”

“And he was still alive?”

“Yeah. He was still breathing. I knelt down by him, but.... There were people around, trying to help him, so I just watched.”

“Watched? Watched what?”

His mouth wouldn't open. “Stop,” Mike pleaded, “Stop, he doesn't want to talk about it.”

Joe looked down at him. “Hush, he's not finished.” He turned back up. “Watched what?”

“I watched him die,” he got out.

“Was this the first person you had seen die?”

“Yes.”

“And there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn't save him,” he comforted, voice calm. “What about the man that robbed the store? What happened to him?”

“They found him three days later, drug overdose.”

“Drugs bought with the money obtained from the robbery,” he concluded.

_Pointing the gun at him, forcing him to take more._ “Yes.”

“A kind of justice prevailed then, and the world is sometimes fair.”

He shook his head. “No. Never.”

Joe looked satisfied at his version. He went once more through Mike's hair before letting him go. “Why do you think you are surrounded by death?” he inquired, walking up to the window, “Seeing your father die, did it not fuel you?”

“I don't know.”

“Did it not motivate you to- to want to do good? It is clearly why you want to help others, save others. Every life is Ryan Hardy's responsibility. The narcissism in that.... is beautiful.”

“No, that's not true.”

“Then what? What drives you?”

_Redemption._ He turned it around on him. “What drives you?” he asked.

“Death does. It fuels me.”

“Me too. Isn't that what you want to hear? It fuels me, too.”

“We both seek it out,” he jumped.

“No, no, I don't seek it out.”

“Oh yes, you do. It motivates your, your every move, Ryan. But why? That's what we all want to know. What did you do to deserve your place in life?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “It just is.”

“We are so alike, Ryan. It is through death that we both live.”

He heard footsteps and spun around to see Parker being held by Jacob Wells. He instinctively brought his gun up at him. 'Mom?' Mike mouthed, panicking. “I got worried; you've been down here a long time,” Jacob blurted out.

“Yes, I'd been wondering when you would work that one out,” he claimed.

“Somebody killed Vince,” he reported.

“Here's how we're going to do this. If Ryan so much as moves a hair, put a bullet through the pretty lady's head,” he commanded.

“I think you should put your gun down,” he chipped in. Ryan couldn't shoot Jacob, then he might do something to Mike. He placed it on the ground. “Now kick it over to me.” He did.

The door opened and Joe walked out. “That was a fine story, Ryan. Both of them. I shall have to embellish the main one somewhat. The second, I'll have to work out. Thank you. It has been a great help.” Once he was out of range, he ran. Jacob took that as a cue, pushing Parker into Ryan and running himself.

She stopped him before he could even ask. “I'm good. Go!” He ran off after them. She pushed the door open and knelt in front of Mike. “You okay?”

He confessed, somewhat teary, “Joe knows about Dad. He knows about me. I'm sorry.”

“Hey, hey, calm down, it's okay,” she soothed.

“He doesn't know about you,” he added. “I'm sorry; I'm sorry.”

Ryan had raced back in when he couldn't catch Joe or Wells. He heard the tone of Mike's voice and quickly grabbed the knife that had been left behind to slice through Debra's bonds before sawing through Mike's. “You gotta calm down, buddy,” he cautioned, “Come on.” The two of them worked off his jacket and just placed it over his shoulders. She started rubbing his back, hoping to keep his breathing level.

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“Hey, it's not your fault,” she chided.

He comforted, “It wasn't going to last forever. I'm surprised he never learned about it before now.” After a few minutes, Parker left so she could call in Donovan.

Mike leaned up against Ryan, tucking his head away from the light. “Are you okay?” Mike asked.

“I'm fine. I got over it a while ago.” An incomplete lie, but he let it go. He felt him calming down and didn't move until Parker came back down. She had been taken care of, the blood wiped off.

“Medics want to check him out. Crime techs are also going to come down,” she reported. Mike slipped his jacket back on and walked behind the two of them back up and outside the house. They reluctantly separated as Ryan and Debra reported to Donovan what they learned.

“How's....”

“You know that softball incident? Worse than that,” she told him. She was being called over by someone and she left.

He walked over to the ambulance, where a medic was inserting an IV drip into Mike's hand. He got up and sat in the little area where another would have been seated while he waited. After a final check, the man left, leaving them alone. “How bad?”

“They're taking me to a local hospital to run tests,” he mentioned, “It's not that bad.”

“That's a relief,” he muttered, “You made me worry today. I have never seen you that angry, even after your cousin destroyed some of your Power Rangers.”

He laughed a little. “I screwed up,” he admitted, “I went too far. I'm not used to almost dying. Doing the right thing is a little harder when you're faced with...that.”

He nodded, “Yeah. You just gotta make sure that you don't do something you can't live with.” _Don't make my mistake._ “Because then you're going to spend the rest of your life trying to make it right.”

“You mean.... your Dad,” he paused, wondering what he should say. “What could you do?”

He remembered what he did do. He didn't know what to say when Parker walked up. “Hey, I want to introduce you to someone,” she said.

“All right,” he agreed, getting up. “Get some rest.” Checking to make sure it was only Parker watching, he quickly bent over and kissed the unmarked side of his forehead.

“Dad!” Mike hissed, compulsively checking as well.

“Consider it from both of us,” Parker commented, “Get some rest, Mike.” The two of them walked away from the vehicle as the medic shut it up and it drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also [this gif](http://31.media.tumblr.com/7eea411a4903f9bca322911d341dd09d/tumblr_ml1mkzQdVV1qgs4sno2_250.gif). When I watched it more and more, my mind started replacing the wordless choking noises with Mike screaming 'Dad'. The first little snippet that then grew into this monster was the whole confrontation after Mike accidentally let it slip.
> 
> It was changed from what I originally came up with, but same general idea.
> 
> I also tried working on this chapter before doing all the rest. I stopped myself.


	13. Havenport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people following, I am so very sorry. I didn't realize Hulu had pulled a fast one and they didn't have the episode. Fox.com did and trying to make that work was tedious.
> 
> And then I got sidetracked. The End is Near is already up, so I'll start work on that Friday (not on the internet tomorrow) and then the Final Chapter before working on an Aftermath chapter and the AU of this AU.

Mike felt better, even if he wasn't. The hospital had kept him overnight after running their tests, finding out there was in fact nothing wrong. One drugged sleep later and he was getting a ride over to the local Sheriff's office to meet up with Ryan and Parker. He was pointed down to where they had been talking to the Sheriff. He left just as he walked in. “Hey, how are you doing?” she asked, seeing him.

He smiled, as best he could. “Knock me down, I get back up.”

“Mitchell could use your help in the computer lab,” Parker directed, “It's in the back; she's going through police dockets.”

He nodded, “On it.” He moved by both of them and walked to the area she mentioned.

“Yeah, Bennie, I'm checking on those property records,” a familiar voice carried out of the office Mike walked past. _No, that can't be... that can't be._ “There's a whole army of FBI folk here today.” He backed up carefully and looked in to see Roderick on the phone, wearing the uniform the uniform of the local PD. “That's classified, Bennie.”

 _What do I do? What do I do? That's Roderick._ He pulled out his phone, intending to call Ryan. _This is stupid; what would I say? One of the cops, the fucking sheriff, is Roderick, get over here._ The man apparently ended his call and walked out of the office. _He's leaving. Shit._ “Excuse me, Sheriff,” he called out.

“Yeah?” he answered, turning around. He didn't expect Mike, but he tried to play off. “What can I do for ya?”

He unholstered his gun and pointed it at the man, feeling marginally better. “You need to put your hands up,” he ordered.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Hands up!”

“Shouldn't you be in the hospital right now?” he questioned, giving up, “Near death?”

“I'm right here, and you need to get your hands up,” Mike repeated, “Now.”

He looked into some room. “Yeah, that's not gonna happen.” He moved in.

“Stop right there! Hey!” He moved after him and saw the man walking through a crowd of his deputies. Several saw the agent pursuing him with a gun and tackled him before he get to him. “I'm a federal agent,” he insisted, trying to get them off, “Stop the Sheriff!”

The commotion drew Ryan and Parker away from the room they were in and to the officers, who were still holding Mike down. “Let him up!” Parker commanded, “He's telling the truth; he's a federal agent.”

“Ma'am, he was going after one of our officers,” one tried convincing.

“It was Roderick!” he shouted, “The Sheriff is Roderick!” One 'accidentally' or actually accidentally applied more pressure over his knife wound and he struggled not to yell.

“Everyone off him now,” she ordered again. Nobody listened until Donovan swept in and started ordering agents to arrest the officers. Ryan pulled Mike up and steadied him before walking him to the bathrooms to check over his wounds.

“He was right in front of me,” he whispered once they cleared out the stalls and locked the door. “He was right in front of me. He asked shouldn't I be in the hospital near death.”

“Hey,” Ryan stopped, grabbing his shoulder and looking straight at him. “We'll find him. You know we will. Now, check your stitches.” Mike nodded, switching around to see in the mirror. He pulled his shirt up enough to show the gauze covering up the knife wound, but he still partially removed it to make sure.

“No blood,” he reported.

“Anything else hurt? More than normal.”

He shook his head, putting his shirt back down. “Just the same as before.”

“All right. Let's go back out. They should be rounded up by now.” He led the way back out and into the room they had set up in before. Several were still being led away. “Sorry, about working...”

He sighed, “You didn't know.”

Parker walked in just a few seconds later. “Roderick's real name is Tim Nelson from Crowley, Virginia. His Mom is a retired mayor; his Father was an Army Colonel who died in the Gulf war when he was a child. He went to Winslow, graduated two-thousand four with a Political Science major and a minor in literature. Guess who his faculty adviser was.”

“How does someone like that end up sheriff of a town?” Mike asked.

“Hell if I know. The guy's won awards. We're questioning everyone in the office, see if anything pops up,” she answered.

“Okay,” Ryan changed, “So, we've made Roderick. I think the cult's gonna try and make a move. The town needs to be locked down.” 

Parker nodded in agreement. “I'm sorry about not recognizing him.” Mike shrugged and she walked off to find Donovan and inform him as well.

Mike ended up seated in front of some information on Roderick to pick out more people that may have been followers. Donovan was over at another desk, typing up something for the director. Parker was going in between places, getting new information. Mitchell walked up to Parker, who had just stood by Mike's side for the last few minutes before looking over at Donovan. “What is it?” he asked.

“Ryan's holding a press conference,” she said. Mike resisted the urge to drop his head on his desk, instead placing his arms first and dropping it then. She reached over and patted his shoulder a couple of times. Donovan laughed once at the stunt Ryan was pulling before pushing himself up and out of his chair.

Ryan didn't get ambushed by Donovan straight when he came in. Instead, the man waited until he was inside to rant at him. “Who told you to hold a press conference? You have no authority to offer a deal, grant immunity,” he accused.

“I know that. I'm just trying to get one of them to come forward,” he stated, “Get them to talk.”

“It could work,” Parker defended, “There's always dissension in the cult. If just one person is questioning their commitment... It's all we need.”

He conceded, “All I'm asking is that you run stuff by me. We're working toward the same goal here.”

“Now you tell me,” he said.

Mike interrupted them before they could argue more, “Hey, a waitress from a diner in town was seen getting in the car with the Sheriff a few minutes ago.” Parker, Ryan and Mike all left as they rushed out to catch up with the man.

It didn't take them long to find the man, about ready to kill the waitress. They were all calling for him to drop his weapon and he wasn't resisting. He didn't completely drop, which Ryan used as an excuse to punch him. Mike kept a few feet away while another agent arrested him.

Parker watched from a few feet away, uneasy by the fact that he gave up so willingly. The three of them took the same car back to the station. “Did it feel good to hit him, Ryan?” she asked.

“Very,” he said.

“Metaphorically, because punching someone kills the hand,” Mike commented. The two of them looked over at him, worried. “After my fight, it doesn't hurt now.”

Roderick, Tim, was already set up in an interrogation room when they got there. He asked for Ryan before anyone else could even walk in. Donovan surprisingly agreed to let Ryan handle it. “I want to cut right to the chase,” he stated, “I made a rather impulsive move earlier. It's a character defect, gets me in a lot of trouble. Needless to say, I want to make a deal.”

“A deal requires you to have something I want,” he reminded, “Where's Joe?”

“Oh, He's somewhere,” he said, “He is really mad at me. See, I took a little insurance policy from Joe to protect myself from him, from you, from anyone else that might want to kill me. His name is Joey Matthews.” Mike glanced at Parker before turning back. _He must have really screwed up to do that._ “Joey. Does that ring a bell?”

“You expect me to believe that you have Joe's son?”

“You don't have to believe me,” he pointed out. “Call Joe, ask him yourself.”

“Do you have a number?”

“I had a phone on me when you arrested me.”

Parker turned to Mike. “I'll get it,” he volunteered, walking out of the room. It only took him a couple of minutes to track down Mitchell, who had it and get it from her before going back. Ryan had sat down in front of him. Roderick looked over at who came in and smiled as he saw his old victim. He handed Ryan the phone and tried to ignore the little gesture. After a few minutes of convincing himself there was nothing to fear, he walked out before he could do something stupid.

He got back behind the glass just as they connected to Joe. They watched the taunting of Joe and Mike was a little happy about the threat toward Roderick. Ryan was the one that ended the call, talking about letting him stew. “What do you want?”

“It's simple. I'll give you the boy and you give me my freedom.”

Donovan huffed, “He knows that's not gonna happen.” When he wouldn't get an answer, Roderick just started whistling and Ryan walked out. “Let me make this as clear as possible that under no circumstances that we are not negotiating with that killer. He just murdered two state troopers.”

“Are you okay with Joey dying? Because I'm not.”

“Of course no one's okay with him dying,” Parker butted in, “How do we know this isn't a trap set up by Joe?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take,” he said.

“Look, this is my call, Ryan. I'm not sanctioning a deal. We'll find another way.” Donovan walked off.

Parker looked back at him. “What are you thinking?” she asked, worried at his thought process.

“He's not sanctioning a deal. Nothing about having him escape,” he mentioned, “And recapturing him.”

She sighed, but walked off to find Donovan and convince him of the idea.

-

Mike didn't know why they picked him to hide in the trunk of the police car while Ryan and Roderick went to go get Joey Matthews. Parker was about ready to argue, but he agreed before she could. Moving around with his wounds was painful, but being in the trunk brought up memories. Debra squeezed his shoulder and handed him her small flashlight before they shut him in. He clicked it on immediately and found the emergency release. He positioned his hand near so he could pull as soon as he could.

He could barely hear the door slam shut and he used that as a signal to get out. Mike quickly checked and made sure he wasn't freaking out before he called Parker. “We're at the location; I didn't panic. Ryan and _him_ are inside,” he reported.

“We're at the road's turn,” she relayed.

“Okay, I'm going to get closer. Hang tight until I can see Joey.” He carefully walked in and pulled out his gun, expecting other people to show up out of nowhere. He followed the light source that suddenly appeared and saw Roderick standing a few feet from Ryan, who was at the closet door, untying Joey. Roderick went for a gun he hid behind a pillow. “Drop your weapon,” he announced, getting the attention on himself. He moved forward and the man dropped back. It made him feel a little better.

It didn't last long, as gunshots from the outside hit Roderick. They all dropped to the ground and watched as the man took several bullets to the back, finally collapsing. After it died down, he looked over to Ryan, fear on his face for a second before forcing himself to wrap it back up. “Hey, it's not us. They're waiting for me to call,” he informed.

“It's Joe's people.” He needed a weapon, and the only one available was by the body, in open sight. “Cover me.” Mike nodded and positioned himself so he had a clean line out. There was one shot in, but he let more out. Both sides stopped for a minute before they started firing in again. “There's at least a couple outside.”

Mike called Parker. “We've got shots fired; Carroll's followers are on the scene,” he told her, “Anytime you want to show up.”

Ryan looked over at him when he was done. “They've stopped firing. They're coming in. Take Joey, get him someplace safe.” _Get yourself out of here. Get back to Debra._ “You're going to go with Mike, okay?” He turned back to Mike. “Cover the back of the house. I got you, okay?”

He nodded, then quickly ran over to escort Joey down a hall and into a bedroom. He went through to make sure no one was in there before pulling him away from the door. “Stay here. I'm going to check the rest of the house, okay?” Joey agreed, and he walked back out the door, shutting it behind him.

He was attacked immediately, his gun flying as the guy threw him against the wall. He tried to force him back, hitting him a few times. It worked, only for him to be thrown to the ground and the man dropping on top of him, trying to drive a knife into him. He struggled, then finally managed to throw him off, before grabbing his gun and shooting him a few times, making sure he was down. 

He went back to check on Joey and found him gone. “Shit!” he moved back to where Ryan should have been and found him gone as well. Another man was on the ground, dead. He walked outside to see Parker and everyone else show up. “Where are they?”

“I-” He didn't know how to explain, but he didn't have to as Ryan walked out of the woods, carrying Joey. Realizing he was safe, Donovan started commanding people to go through the house, seeing if Roderick or either of the other two members left any clues to the location of the house.

Parker drove them back in her car. Mike got into front seat while Ryan and Joey took up the back. None of them said anything, just driving back to the station. Which had become a beacon for news crews, as they were swarmed as soon as they pulled up. Ryan holding Joey was the money shot that several claimed, others trying to interview. Mike led the way, separating the crowd while checking back from time to time.

Once inside, a couple of marshals stepped up to take Joey. He didn't let go of Ryan, forcing the man to go with him so they could check up on him and questioned him as fast as they could. Now situated with a couple of agents, they went through the new information, trying to plot where the man was. It was during a certain point that his phone went off. “Yeah?”

“Hello, Ryan.”

Something was off. “Well, how are you?”

“Not terribly well. Actually, Ryan, I'm sorry- I'm sorry to say that our story has taken an unexpected turn. Although I had hoped that Jacob would have brought my son or Michael back with him when he came.”

He had to steady himself. _He had been planning to take Mike in retaliation._ “What happened, Joe?” he played off, “You don't sound so good.”

“No, it's, it's bad, Ryan. It's really bad; it's a complete rewrite. But if we have to, we have to. You know, it's a nuisance, but there we are, suffice to say, Ryan. It, it has not been a very good day.”

 _Why would he need to massively re-write? Unless it has something to do with Claire?_ “What happened? Where's Claire?”

He laughed. “It has transpired that Claire is no longer our leading lady. No, she will not be riding off in the sunset with me. Sadly, it is time for Claire to die.” He hung up on him after that.

 _He's gonna kill Claire._ He almost collapsed in the chair. Mike showed up at the door, thinking he would notice him. “A young woman walked in the station, says she's part of the cult. She wants to talk.” He looked up sharply and followed Mike down to the entrance, where the woman was surrounded by a few agents, all trained on her.

“I'm not armed,” she informed. “You don't need the guns.”

“I checked; she's clean,” someone mentioned.

“Just the same, who are you?” Donovan asked.

“Melissa,” she stated, “I want to turn myself in. Look, I saw you on the news; please help me.”

Parker didn't trust it. It sounded too close to Maggie. She couldn't ignore it, however and said, “Bring her back.”

She sighed, relieved, “Thank you.” They all turned their backs on her. The woman pulled out the pin in her hair and with an announcing scream, jumped on Donovan's back, stabbing him straight in the eye. Mike shot the woman after the fact, when she began getting up from the floor.

Parker stopped him from doing much, guiding him while Mike called for assistance. He stared back at Ryan, who looked pained at the lost of another agent, even if this one brought more problems than anything. After filing the incident, and checking on Joey one last time, the three of them ended up leaving. Ryan ended up driving around for a while, finding a place that was still open and ordering before going back to the motel. The three of them didn't part, instead just heading to Parker's room, seeing as she apparently was the cleanest of the three.

She realized something was wrong with Ryan when he clutched the two of them while watching a movie on one of the networks. Mike wasn't complaining, but he had fallen asleep on the older man's shoulder a few minutes after eating. Unconsciously, he had even moved closer, one hand holding onto his shirt. “What's wrong?” she inquired, watching him watch over Mike.

“Joe called me. Something happened at the house. He's going to kill Claire,” he informed. It didn't explain why he was watching Mike closely. It took him a couple of minutes to actually answer. “He said if they couldn't get Joey, they were supposed to grab Mike instead.”

Now that made a lot more sense. “It's a good thing he's safe then.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. He might still try.”

“Then tell him in the morning. Make sure he's prepared that it might happen.” He nodded and tried not to close his eyes, knowing he would instantly fall asleep if he did. Parker felt the same way. _Exigent circumstances._ “Come on, it's too late and you're about dead on your feet,” she offered, “Just sleep.”

He nodded, “Thanks.” The two of them worked Mike out of his vest, shoes and badge before maneuvering him to lay on the couch. She pulled out the extra blanket in the drawer and draped it over him, making sure he was covered. She switched into an old shirt and sleep pants before getting into bed. Ryan stripped to his boxers and undershirt, his suit thrown over a chair. They tried staying on their respective sides, but Debra always latched onto her bed partners. Ryan wasn't surprised when he felt her get closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I actually said AU of the AU. I'm thinking of A Thorn in the Manuscript.


	14. The End is Near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find the house. Joe begins a few distractions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really hurrying to get these written while I still have the episodes. It may be possible that I go back, but this is done as much as I can think of.

Mike woke up to the strange sight of both his parents sharing the same bed. Nothing happened, but it was still weird walking around to get to the bathroom and try and sneak out. Ryan stopped him before he could leave. “Hey,” he croaked, throat dry. “Don't leave yet, I need to tell you something.” 

“Yeah, okay.” He waited for the older man went to the bathroom himself and pulled on pants before coming back to him. The reassurance after seeing him again and trace of fear made him worry. “Dad, what is it?”

“Joe called last night. He said that they were supposed to take you if they couldn't get Joey.”

He didn't know what to make of that information. “Okay. It didn't happen; why are you worried?”

“Because he might try again,” he told him, “I need you to be careful.”

“I'm always....” He trailed off after seeing him. “It's fine. I'll be fine. He's not going to try again, not if they're leaving the house. He's going to be wrapped up in that and Claire.”

“I don't want to take any chances,” he warned, “He's getting desperate. He'll do anything he can.”

“I'll be fine,” Mike repeated. “Dad, I'll be fine.” He did the only thing he could think that might stop him from worrying too much. The reaction was automatic as he hugged Ryan that he mirrored it. “He's not going to be focused on me. I'll be okay.”

“We're both worried,” Debra whispered, padding up to them. She yanked on Ryan's arm to separate them so she could hug Mike herself. “Neither of us want to lose you.”

He admitted, “I don't want to lose you guys either.”

“Just be more cautious,” she insisted. “Now, I need to get ready, and so do you two.” They nodded and walked out of her room to go to theirs.

The three of them walked into the sheriff's station, ready to see if the information from Joey paid off. Parker was back to leading the investigation. She sent Turner off with state police, keeping with Donovan's previous recommendation to keep local off. She was informed that the man was in surgery and Joey Matthews was about to go into hiding with Claire's mother, just as soon as she got there.

Finding it was the best thing to happen, and watching the gate break under the large vehicle made Ryan glad as they rushed in. After special tactics cleared areas, they started filtering in. There wasn't a living soul there. The place had been quickly and badly picked up. The three of them and entered what appeared to be a family room of sorts. There, a man was hanging from the rafters.

The hanging body was taken out quickly, leaving crime techs to search for anything else. “Why the body?” Mike asked, “Doesn't he need everyone he can keep his hands on?”

“To spook us,” Parker guessed.

“Show of power,” Ryan added.

“To tell us he's still in control?” she estimated.

Mike just watched as they fell into the pattern of talking between themselves. “Yeah, that's the idea, but he's not,” he remembered, “We're gaining on him and he's lost Claire.”

“You think Joe's still in town?”

“Not for long.”

Mitchell walked over and updated them. “We're running prints. Did a quick breakdown of groceries, dishes, bed lines. I estimate thirty-seven actual residents,” she informed.

The information was of little shock, unfortunately. “Have all the traffic checkpoints on high alert, special attentions to cars with four or more people,” she passed, “Notify the Coast Guard to search all outgoing boats.” She went off to start on the orders.

They started exploring more of the house, and found the study that had Joe's touch all over it. They just looked around, while Ryan zeroed in on the book with a small piece of paper sticking out of it. He picked it up and read the message the man left behind. He then found the picture of Claire with blood splattered on it. Parker caught up and saw what he had already read. “Mask of the red death,” she noted, “Seen this before. Why did he leave it?”

“To distract us, knock us off point,” he said. “She did something that ruined her in his eyes and now he plans on doing something about it.”

“She wasn't going to live up to some false idea,” she agreed, “She's ruining his story plan.”

“And he's going to kill her because of it.”

“But you swoop in and save her because you're the hero. He hasn't killed her yet for that reason.”

“He's going to give me the opportunity see her die.”

“Only if you let him.”

Unable to do anything more, they headed back to the police station. Parker was staring at screens; Mike joined Mitchell in looking over paperwork. “What do you got?” Ryan asked, seeing the images filled with photos and information.

“Images of anyone that ever visited Carroll or was in the armory, or contact with him or the cult. Basically, everyone,” she lamented.

“How many can you actually ID?”

“I'm up to fifty,” Mitchel sighed.

“Who's real and who's not?” Mike brought up, “Real identities, fakes, faceless people. We don't know who is and who isn't.” He watched him walk over to the window and gaze outside. Ryan then turned around and walked out of the room. He followed along, throwing a questioning look to Parker. Outside, Ryan was looking around, seeing if he could try to spot something. “You think they're here?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

A man in front got a tiny bit closer, before swerving off. _Something's happening._ Neither of them could hear the interview, and only knew about the stabbing because everyone started screaming and moving away. Ryan was the one to remove her from her victim, trying to get her to release her knife. Mike drew his weapon and also insisted, keeping an eye out for anyone about to attack. She finally did drop it, and a couple of agents took that along with her into custody.

Parker didn't debate on who would be interrogating her. She just led Mike over to the viewing room. Ryan walked in just before the door closed after the agents. “My name is-” he started.

“Ryan Hardy,” she cut off, “Oh, I know.”

Not surprising. _Of course you do. All the followers know my name._ “All right, you know my name, what's your name?” he inquired. She wouldn't answer, just giving him a sweet smile. “What, you don't wanna tell me your name?”

“It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea. That a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name Annabel Lee.”

Parker and Mike glanced at each other. Another Poe character. “Your name is Annabel Lee?” he questioned.

She laughed, “No, silly.”

“Annabel Lee is the story of the death of a woman by the sea,” he retold.

“And the man who grieves her death,” she added. “Ryan, will you grieve for your love when she dies? Will you? Will you lay down by her side in her tomb by the sea?”

He got off that trail. “So it was quite a show you put on out there with the reporter,” he mentioned.

“Thank you.”

“You know, you killed that woman.”

“You're welcome.”

He glanced over to the mirror, where Parker was probably standing. He wasn't impressed. Neither was she. “You were quoting 'Mask of the Red Death.' What was that about?”

“Death, Ryan. It was about death.”

“No, seen this trick before. You're activating something,” he said. She smiled like he had done something right. “Why don't you just tell me what it is?”

“You. You. It was meant for you.”

He laughed. It was just beginning to get on his nerves. “Okay, Annabel, how about we stop all the creepy cult stuff and you tell me where I can find Claire?”

“In death, there's everything,” she recited.

He shook his head. He banged on the table to shock her. He also shocked Parker. Mike looked over when she jumped. “I'm fine,” she assured.

“Are you ready to die, Annabel?” he asked.

“Yes!” He flung the table aside and grabbed her in a choking grip.

“I'm going in,” Mike said, moving that way.

“Stop, he's got this,” Parker claimed, grabbing him from going in. Mike glanced at her, wary before turning back in.

“Where is Claire?” Ryan growled. “Tell me where she is. I will kill you.”

“Claire must die,” she insisted, “Through death, you live.”

“Why does Joe want her dead? What's changed?”

“In death, there is life.”

“But something happened to Joe. What? Tell me. Why does Claire have to die?”

“It's so you can be reborn.” _Why would I need to be reborn?_ Not knowing what to say to that, he dropped his hand and walked out of the room. Parker looked over to Mike, wondering what she could be talking about, but he didn't know either.

After calming himself down, Ryan came back to the main operations room, where Mike and Parker were waiting. “Mask of the Red Death. Joe leaves it behind for us to find, the girl quotes it. We keep coming back to this, why?” he inquired.

“Plague on a city that feared death. They lived in a palace for safety,” Mike mentioned.

“Death found them anyway,” he finished. “So, what are they planning? A group suicide, a mass murder, what?”

“Is this fitting for Joe's final chapter?” he inquired, “I mean....”

Parker took over. “Okay, so, we're in metaphor land with Joe. If the cult is the plague,” she led.

“The red death killed the people who feared it,” Ryan remembered, “Who sought safety and refuge. So, where?”

“The evacuation center,” Mike connected. The three of them looked at each other. 

After getting Turner to agree, they all headed to the center. Everyone gathered around Parker for more information. “Okay, the evacuation center is situated in the gymnasium. We estimate there are about a hundred people inside, most of whom came in voluntarily,” she explained, “There were no prescreens or identity checks, so any number of them may be of Carroll's cult.”

“So what's our approach?” Turner questioned.

“Let's get SWAT posted at the exits but guns down,” Ryan decided.

“Agreed, we don't want to start a panic. We do a preliminary sweep, going two by two. Search for suspicious behavior. Arrest and detain anyone out of the ordinary. We'll question them later.”

Turner seemed to agree. “All right, you heard the lady. Guns holstered. We got mostly innocent people, so no shots fired unless absolutely necessary. We clear?”

Nobody objected, which was a good thing. “All right, let's go in.” Ryan and Parker flanked Mike unconsciously when they walked in. The gym was just starting to get crowded. People were walking around, talking to neighbors, sitting or lying down. Thanks to the warning Mike had gotten earlier in the day, he was wary of everyone in the gym, glaring at someone that walked too close and others that looked at him strangely.

“Keep your eyes open,” she reminded. The three of them looked at each other before separating. Mike stayed close to Ryan, Parker went along with Turner. They glanced over anyone, trying to see if there was something they could pick out. Someone not as scared, someone waiting from something.

After a few minutes, Ryan saw the man that had been at the stabbing earlier in the day. He was smiling, emptily, but still smiling. “Mike,” he said, grabbing his attention, “Two o'clock, black hair, black jacket. Saw him outside at the police station.” He took a quick glance at who he was talking about. “Something's up with this guy.” Yeah, he agreed. They began getting closer. “We don't want to start a panic.”

When they tried to block him in, the man went by the stage and stood on it, able to see above the room and be seen by the room. He was planning something. Thinking about stopping it, Ryan kept trying to get closer. The man flung his hands in the air and a few seconds later, the lights went out.

People started screaming. It took a few seconds for emergency flood lights and the fire alarm to start blaring. Ryan found Mike and mentally reassured himself before looking around. A woman was staggering and he rushed over to help her. “Ma'am, are you okay?” No answer, then he saw the blood pour down her face from her scalp. “Mike, paramedics now.” Mike knelt down next to the woman, believing she was already gone, but calling them anyway.

Ryan looked for more attackers and saw their leader coming up behind Turner. He called out a warning, which made the man turn and a knife only went in his arm. The attacker ran out in the chaos. The screaming renewed and he checked to make sure the older man wasn't badly hurt. “Go. Go!” he urged, not even trying to get up. He went after him.

Mike looked up when someone came over, wielding a hatchet. He shot him until he went down, startled. He kept his gun out while trying to go back to the woman.

Parker witnessed someone stabbing civilians in the back. “Hey!” she attracted. She took out another with someone's help before shooting her down. She went after the one that ran. The hall was cleaned out and she went by two SWAT before going down another, trying to find the one she went after and others. She walked by bodies, checking in rooms to make sure no one was there. She went by one room and had someone sneak out behind her. “Hold it right there,” she ordered, swerving around.

“Help, please, she tried to kill me,” the young woman begged.

_Feels like Maggie again._ “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Please,” she begged. Then she changed, bringing out a knife and running at her. She shot her down. Another agent came out at the shots. 

Teamed up, they finished searching the area, going down a hall way into a room that had a few exits. “Check around that corner,” she motioned. She went down another way, wary. Checking a door, she got into another part before she heard a grunt, then a thud, as if something had fallen. 

She carefully made her way over to where she heard it, gripping her gun tightly. Someone stood up, causing her focus to set on him. Someone then grabbed her from behind. She wasn't strong enough to get the man off, and watched the other come forward with a bloody knife.

Ryan walked over to where Turner was getting bandaged up, hearing the crying and chaos that Joe's people had created along the way. “Okay, what do we got?”

“Five civilian causalities, about a dozen or so wounded. Nine cult members dead, the rest escaped,” he reported.

“Well, they weren't going to surrender,” he said, “So this was just a big distraction to what, get Carroll out of town?”

“They knew all our resources would be here, perfect opportunity.”

Mike came up behind them, worried. “Guys, we got a problem,” he interrupted, “Parker's missing.” The three men looked between each other before Turner was ordering a couple of his men to start going through the people, asking for witnesses who might have seen her. Mike looked over at Ryan. “Why her?” he whispered, “Why was she taken? Why didn't Joe instruct them to take me?”

“I don't know,” he said, unsure. “He could have something else planned.”

“Why? He knows that if I was taken, you would freak out. He doesn't know about Mom, why did he take her?” he asked.

“Hey,” he reached out. Mike was panicking a little. He moved him against the side of the ambulance and stood in front of him. “You're worried, I know. But we will find her.”

“How?” he cracked.

“I don't know. But,” he stopped, seeing him about to go off, “We can't do it tonight. It's too dark, we can't track anyone. We can do the basics, search for her phone, security.” Mike bent his head, trying to control himself. “Come on, once we do that, we head back to the hotel. There is no way in hell I'm leaving you alone tonight.”

-

Parker was scared. The two men had shoved her in the trunk of a car and started driving. She didn't know where they were heading. She hoped someone would stop them, but she doubted they were going to go by any of the checkpoints. She felt the change to gravel and felt her hope disappear as they went farther and farther.

Eventually, they did stop, and the men opened the trunk before dragging her out. She started screaming and trying to kick them while they moved her over to an open hole in the ground. _No! No, no no no no no!_ She dropped her entire weight, trying to make them drop her. “I got her feet; you grab her shoulders,” the leader ordered. The other guy did just that, and they dropped her in a box situated in the hole. She tried kicking out and couldn't connect. “Whoo,” he laughed, walking around and ripping the duct tape off. “Any last words, Agent?”

“You don't have to do this,” she pleaded. “You don't have to do this.”

“You're right. I don't have to,” he agreed. He walked over and grabbed the other end of the lid before carrying it over. “Small breaths, Agent.”

“Help! Somebody help!” she yelled. She tried getting out, but she couldn't move much. She couldn't keep the lid off and kept screaming while they pounded nails in the top. When they were done with that, she heard dirt being shoveled on the box. “No!” They continued.

She started sobbing, “No.” _Ryan, Mike. Oh, god, please get me out of here. Find me, get me out of here, please. I don't want to die. Please._

-

Ryan couldn't hear her pleads. Instead, he was sitting in a chair while Mike had taken the couch, curling up into it trying to go to sleep. He almost wished for Joe to call. He had no idea what the man had planned. He needed Debra back here. Mike started moving and whimpering in his sleep. He got up and walked over, placing a hand on his head and carefully going through his hair. He calmed a little, a hand coming up to greet his.

_We will get you back, Debra._ He just didn't know if it would be a good reunion or not.


	15. The Final Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... ow. If you remember the episode, Parker was buried alive. So warnings for that.
> 
> You may also need tissues.

Mike was anxious to get going. He woke up and was out the door before Ryan had even gotten in the shower. He came back after he had dressed, holding a takeout bag and also dressed in different clothes. Both ate one sandwich and had coffee before driving in together. They weren't the earliest ones. Mitchell had gotten the security camera footage and ran through it quickly for the two of them. Turner had taken control, the FBI not able to get anyone out that could take over the administrative part of the investigation so quickly.

Mitchell came across security footage from a gas station nearby. “It's Parker,” Mike stated, relieved she wasn't dead yet.

Ryan was more focused on the man holding her. “That's the ringleader from last night. Right there,” he pointed out. 

Mitchell stopped the footage and ran recognition software. “IDed as Alex Lipton, former army sniper, part of the Freedom Thirteen,” she reported.

“Another militia boy. Okay. What else did Joe say?” he asked, turning to follow Ryan as he went to the window, “The attack last night was 'Mask of the Red Death;' the woman was quoting 'Annabel Lee.'”

“About lovers by the ocean.”

“Joe's playing with Poe's greatest works,” he figured, “He's giving us the clues; we need to put them together.”

Ryan had been watching someone with a small statue walk up to the Havenport police wearing a Poe mask. “What the hell?” he swore, walking outside with Mike following.

Another agent was walking the person up. Ryan got out the door and was about to attack the person. Mike held him back. _I think it's a kid._ “I got it,” he said. He approached him. “Hey, what's going on?” he asked. “What's your name?”

The kid unzipped his jacket and pulled the mask off. “Jack Foster.”

“Where'd you get that mask?”

“A lady gave it to me,” he told them.

“That lady tell you her name?”

“Emma.”

Turner turned to the marshals and commanded, “Emma Hill! Fan out, she still could be in the area.”

The kid was a little freaked out. “She gave me twenty dollars and told me to put this on and come over here,” he explained.

Ryan figured there was something with the mask. It was a message of some sort. “Can I see that?” he asked, stepping forward and taking it from him. He searched it over until he found a series of numbers. “Phone number.” They rushed back in and handed it to Mitchell. She set up a trace and called it, putting it on speaker for everyone to hear.

“Hello?”

 _Oh god._ “Debra?” Mike was hovering over his shoulder, and his jitteriness stopped when he heard her voice.

“Oh god, Ryan....” she cried.

“Where are you? We'll come get you,” he assured.

“I don't know,” she wailed, “I'm in a box.”

“What?” He looked over at Mike, who increasing becoming pale.

“It's a coffin; they buried me, Ryan.”

 _No._ “Listen to me, you hang on and we're going to find you, okay?” She wasn't answering him. “Do you hear me? We're gonna get you out of there.”

“Please, hurry,” she begged.

Mitchell couldn't get anywhere with the trace. “They're bouncing the connection through a dummy server,” she informed.

They weren't going to be able to get it through there. “All right, Debra, let's go through this. Tell us what you remember after the trunk.”

“I blacked out; I'm not sure for how long. At least a few minutes.”

“And when you woke up?”

She tried remembering. “Umm... we went over railroad tracks.”

Mike jumped up when he heard that. “There's one line that runs through the county,” he mentioned, going over to the map to mark out the possible routes her captors had taken.

“Anything else?” Ryan asked.

“Drove for a while. I got up to 700.”

“That's a little over ten minutes,” Mitchell brought up.

“Lots of turns, I tried to keep track; I couldn't.”

“It's okay; you're doing great. Anything else?”

“At the end, we turned on a dirt road. I could hear gravel or rocks. We drove for maybe five minutes. It was dark; I couldn't see much. Two men, one blonde hair, one dark. They put me inside here. I could hear their shovels, then the dirt. That's all I can remember.”

She was crying. Ryan couldn't bare hearing it and Mike looked like he wanted to try and say something reassuring. Something from their past that no one knew. “Debra, we are going to find you. Deidre's going to stay with you.” He walked over to Mike while the woman tried to be reassuring.

“There's eight different crossings in the county,” he mentioned, feeling angry and lost.

“She's to the east, Cedarville State Forest.”

Not helpful. “It's three thousand acres, twelve access roads, they're all gravel. That's way too much ground to cover,” he complained. “Maybe if we could get a helicopter with heat signature capabilities.”

 _CSI? Mike, really?_ “How much time do we have? They abducted her, went by car, takes time to bury someone. How much air do you think she has?” Ryan questioned.

“Three to five hours, maybe.”

“We'll find her.”

Turner interrupted, “Police found Alex's car out on route four near Cedarville. We're gonna check it out.” They rushed out after him to go along.

When they finally got to the area, the police had it cordoned off. “This is definitely the car; why'd they leave it behind?” he motioned.

“Flat tire, assuming after they buried her,” Ryan started.

“They could be anyway,” Mike added.

Turner started ordering. “Okay, folks, we need a perimeter search of the entire area. Let's go.”

Ryan was kneeling next to the front of the car, checking the flat tire. “Mike, check it out,” he called over. The younger man knelt down to see. “Someone knifed the tire.”

“They wanted us to find it?”

“Yeah,” he said, standing up and looking around. _This was a plant. They're planning something._ Mike was trying to do the same thing.

A gunshot rang out and the person behind Mike was felled by a bullet. He ducked as more rang out at him before he could get behind the car with Ryan. Everyone else had also scattered, and were trying to search for the shooter before returning fire. “You okay?” Ryan asked quickly. He nodded. “Give me some cover.

“What are you going to do?”

“Cover me.” He ran out from behind the car and Mike stood up, shooting in the general direction. A few others joined in. Ryan ran up the hill to where he had seen a barely visible blip on the hill that he assumed was the shooter. He was right, and it was even the leader of the previous nights events. He got him while he was switching clips. “Drop it,” he ordered, gun at his head. He let go of the rifle and he flipped him over while keeping the weapon on him. “Where is Agent Parker?”

He smiled in his face, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He whipped him with his gun, angry. “Hardy!” Turner warned, coming up with another man to arrest him. They walked him back down, planning on taking him back to the station.

Ryan shut the door on the agent who tried to place him in. “Put him in our car.” Mike walked him over so he could open the door.

“Taking him back to town for questioning?” Turner asked.

“Yeah, we got him.”

He knew he was lying. He didn't care. “Do what you need to do.” Ryan went over to the car and got into the passenger's seat, telling Mike where to go.

The abandoned factory was the perfect location for what Ryan was planning. Mike pulled the suspect out while he just walked ahead. “Where are we?” Alex asked.

“A nice quiet place where we can talk,” he stated. He opened a door and Mike shoved him in.

“Your friends had this really cool way of questioning me,” he mentioned.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” he laughed.

He kicked him in the leg to bring him down. “Oh, then you know what's about to happen. We ask a question, you answer truthfully or we beat you to a pulp. Where's Agent Parker?”

He just began to start laughing at them. “We don't have time for this. You need to start talking,” Ryan reminded.

“Or what? You're FBI, you can't do-” he said, before Mike punched him. Ryan followed up with a kick to the chest.

“I'm sorry; what were you saying?” Mike asked.

“Where is Agent Parker?” Ryan demanded.

“Okay, okay, I'll tell you. She's in a coffin in the ground,” he taunted.

Each of them punched him again before he swung around to face Ryan. “Where is she?”

“Go ahead, kill me. I'm not talking.” He started laughing in their faces again.

“We're not gonna kill ya, but we're gonna get real close.” Mike picked out a pipe and checked it before walking back over. He slammed it into the leg, driving him down again. Ryan drove his finger into an eye, finally making him cry out in pain. “Where is she? Last chance.”

“Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Route thirty-two.”

“Where on thirty-two?”

“Woods near Macon Street.”

Mike dropped the pipe and Ryan dropped Alex when he said that. He dialed Turner. “Yeah, we got a location.” He heard the bustle as the man started alerting agents to head out.

“If you're lying, I will kill you,” Ryan told him. Mike pulled him back up and made him walk out and get back into the car. They were on the highway and driving quickly to get to her.

“Look, my men are on their way, but they buried her in the middle of nowhere,” he reminded.

“Turner, just hurry,” Mike urged, hanging up.

Ryan turned back to Alex. “How much longer?” he questioned.

“Five minutes, ten at the most.”

Ryan called Mitchell so he could reassure Debra. “How's she doing?”

“I have her on the line,” she said, “She's scared, Ryan.”

He figured. “Put her on.” He waited for Mitchell to disconnect her side. “Debra?”

“I'm here,” she breathed, “Ryan.”

“Mike's here with me, too.” He placed it on speaker.

“Hey, we know where you are; we're on our way right now.”

She wasn't answering back. Both were worried. “Can you hear us?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I need you to do me a favor. Call Beth.”

 _No, no no no._ She was preparing for the worst. “Hey, we're on our way,” Mike reminded.

“Tell her that I love her. My parents, too. She'll know how to contact them. We're not close, but they deserve to know. One of my only regrets.”

“Stop, we're on our way, save your air,” he pleaded.

“Mike, you went from a cute kid to a handsome man, and somehow you are still good, even with our influence and everything that's happened. Don't lose that.”

He had to bow his head and wipe out the tears forming. 'Mom,' he mouthed before saying out loud, “Just stop, okay? We're almost there.”

“Ryan,” she continued, “This is not your fault; I am not your fault. We always knew this might happen to one of us. It's the life.”

 _No. Debra, stop._ “You're going to make it, Debra, you need to hold on.”

“I am not your fault. Take care of Mike.”

“Please hold on,” he begged. She wasn't talking anymore. “Please hold on, Debra. We're almost there.”

“I know,” she said, barely heard.

Mike broke speed limits trying to get to the area. Finally, they reached a point where they couldn't drive, so they had to walk out with Alex, who pointed them over to recently turned ground. Shovels were still nearby and they both started getting through the dirt. “You better hurry,” he taunted.

Ryan hit something after throwing some dirt off. “It's her!” he yelled, “Debra!”

“Mom!” Mike shouted, continuing to get most of the dirt off. They dropped down and brushed off the rest of the dirt before uncovering the lid. “Get it by the sides. Ready?” It took them a couple of tries to sync themselves and retch the top off. “Oh, god, she's not breathing.”

“Get her out,” Ryan ordered, getting under her shoulders while Mike grabbed her legs. They lifted her to just beside the hole. Ryan started compressions on her chest, trying to get her heart going again.

“Come on, Mom,” he prayed, “Please wake up.” Ryan switched to breathing for her and he would have stepped up to do compressions, but the man just switched back quickly to do a few more. “Mom, come on, please!” Ryan wasn't hearing anything for his efforts, and bent over, hoping for light breathing. He didn't hear anything. He turned to Mike, who was starting to cry. Ryan's face was somber, no hope left for her to come back. “No. No! Mom! Wake up!” He moved over to her chest, started shaking her in a child-like manner. “Mom!” He bent over her and started trembling, repressed sobs making their way throughout.

Ryan wiped away a few tears and saw Alex watching over the scene. He wasn't smiling. He probably had been when Ryan had started compression to no avail, but Mike shouting and crying for his mother. A child crying for his dead parent. He apparently wasn't that heartless. But it was Joe's plan. It had to happen. Mad as hell, he got up and walked over to the man. Mike only noticed because he brushed close to him. “Ryan,” he tried. “Dad, no!” He rushed to try and stop him, but he shot Alex in the head, killing him.

Instead of focusing on the fact that Ryan shot someone, he turned onto a different topic. _Where was Turner? They should have been here._ “Where are they?” he muttered, pulling out his phone and calling them again. He wasn't getting through. Ryan wasn't paying attention, thinking about what Joe must have planned. It wasn't just about Parker. He needed him to get to Claire; there had to be something here. Mike noticed and walked over while he began reading it. “What is it?”

“It's Joe's book, left in the coffin,” he muttered. He read a few lines, and realized it had been what Joe had been doing. “He planned the whole thing; it's all part of this stupid book. 'Ryan prayed that she was still alive. He started digging and finally found the coffin. Inside, she lay. He desperately tried to revive her, but Ryan was too late and Agent Debra Parker was dead.'” He looked over to Mike, who kept his head down, staring at Debra's body. “He even talks about me finding the manuscript. 'Hidden inside the coffin was an envelope.'”

“How would he know exactly what was going to happen?” Mike demanded.

“He doesn't,” he mentioned, going back, “He says that you died; Alex shot you in the woods. In this story, you're dead.”

“So we can change the story,” he pointed out. Ryan looked back down at what the next part that Joe wrote was. “What's the next part?” He wasn't saying anything, but Mike knew that something on there was telling him what to do. “Dad, what is it? What's next?”

“It doesn't say,” he lied.

“Like hell it doesn't,” he swore, “Dad. Dad.”

“This is for me alone.”

“You don't get to do this by yourself,” Mike insisted.

“This is my fight, Mike.”

“How can you say that to me?” he demanded, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “He just killed Mom! How is this not my fight?!”

He grabbed him, holding him back. “He wants you dead. He wants everyone close to me dead. That was his plan.”

“And I'm not dead. He failed. Let's surprise him with it, have me come out of nowhere and shoot the bastard,” he rattled off.

“I'm not risking it; I'm not risking you,” Ryan stated, letting him go to walk to the car.

“You don't get to decide that,” he told him, trying to keep up.

Ryan slammed both of the doors closed before swiveling around and pointing a gun at him. “Stay here.”

“You're not going to shoot me,” he denied, moving a little closer.

“Michael Emerson Weston, listen to me, you cannot come,” he said, “Stay here. Wait for Turner.”

“No.”

Ryan shot at his feet, enough to scare him a few inches back. He jumped back and looked up at him with heartbreak and pain. “Dad?”

“I love you. I'm sorry.” He rushed over to the other side and started up the car before driving off. Mike just watched him drive off, leaving him with the cooling bodies of his mother and the man that killed her.

-

The place Ryan showed up to was an abandoned series of buildings. Some residential, some business. He parked just behind another car and turned his off. He waited for any sign of someone sneaking up or an envelope, some sign to tell him what was next. He pulled the transcript back up, wondering if there was some sort of clue that he didn't remember. He flipped after Debra's death and only found a paper entitled, The Final Chapter. _That does fuck._

The door to the building he was parked by was open, and he looked inside to see Emma appearing, gun in hand to force him if necessary. He got out of the car and tried to walk over. “Lose your gun and phone,” she ordered. He pulled out his phone and placed it inside the car before placing the gun beside it. He then walked to the entrance of the building.

“Hello, Emma,” he greeted, moving further in.

“Get on your knees, hands on your head,” she commanded. _Yeah fucking right._ “Do you think I can't kill you? I have been instructed to shoot you. We're not playing around anymore. This is it. If you want to see Claire again, this is the only way.”

 _Screw you._ “Just tell me where she is.” Emma frowned, not liking the fact he was still standing up to her. Someone grabbed him from behind. Instinctively, he fought. She lowered the gun and he understood when he felt a syringe enter his neck, injecting something that was making him fall unconscious.

She smiled. “Nice to see you again, Ryan.”

He heard waves crashing and became confused. There was heat from somewhere and he forced himself to wake up faster to figure out what was going on. He saw Claire, watching him concernedly. “Oh, you're awake, finally,” Joe mocked, coming into view. His immediate reaction was to get to Claire, but he could barely move with the drug still working on his system. He fell to the floor. Joe also came over with a gun. “Sit down. Sit down!” He moved back on the couch he woke up on. “Gonna need you to be a lot less combative.”

He ignored Joe. “It's okay,” he reassured, “It's gonna be okay.”

“I knew you'd turn up; Claire had her doubts,” Joe interrupted. “You found the book. Of course, you would have noticed the final chapter is missing. That's because we are writing it now. You and I. How's it going to end, Ryan? Does good triumph over evil? Does the hero rescue the girl?”

“My hands are tied, Joe,” he pointed out, “Doesn't quite make for a fair fight.”

“Ryan, I have been stabbed with both a knife and a fork,” he mentioned, “So I really don't think there is gonna be any more fighting.”

He worried about Claire. She had kept quiet, and too calm. “Claire, you okay?”

“Oh, she's fine,” Joe answered for her. “We've had a long chat, Claire and I, about all sorts of things. You know, her guilt, her suffering, her bad choice in men. You know, we damaged souls, we really do attract one another, don't we? You're cursed with a bad picker, you are.” He pointed at Claire. “And let's face it, why would anyone fall in love with either of us, total bloody disasters? I must admit, I don't know how you fell for Michael's mother, but other than that. We're so much alike.”

 _Enough of this._ “Your ending, Joe, tell me about it. What's my part? What do I have to do?”

“Well, you have to-” he groaned at the movement on his wound to sit down. “You have to be honest, Ryan.”

“You got it.”

“Right.” He stared at him. “So when did you fall in love with my wife?” he demanded.

“I don't know.”

He hummed. “When you first met her, Ryan. Love at first sight. That's the acceptable answer. It starts as an attraction but later, we're able to look back on it and know that we always knew. Yes, it's much how I regard you and I as a matter of fact, love at first sight. You have to admit, we're connected.”

“Not by love.”

“Ahh, well then, you have yet to truly reflect.” Ryan didn't like how he was thinking. Joe stood up and moved in front of the fireplace. “So tell me, on this cozy night of truths, when did you realize that I was the killer?” 

He said, “I started following.”

“No, Ryan, you didn't follow me. No, you followed Claire.”

“I followed her to see if she would lead me to you,” he stated.

“And then you fell in love with her.”

“Yeah,” Ryan admitted.

Joe took in the answer, processed it. “That will make this all the easier to do.” He switched the gun for the pick. “Let's begin.” 

Claire screamed and he began yelling at him to stop. “Joe, don't. It's too predictable.” _Deb, Mike, I'm sorry._ “You got to kill me instead.”

“That's- that's not the ending, Ryan.” Claire was begging him not to hurt her. “Shall we start with her eyes?”

“No, Joe, stop! Listen. You got to kill me. No one's gonna see it coming.” _The unknown, lone son the survivor of Joe Carroll. That would be one very big surprise._ “It's the best ending. I'm the hero; you can let her go but, I have got to die. No one is going to expect that!”

“Claire must die, Ryan, to honor your death curse,” he reminded, “First Michael and now her, because it is by far the most interesting thing about you!”

“It's not gonna work! It's overkill. You're gonna destroy the story. No one's gonna read that.” He was taking the attention off of Claire, although he might do worse, considering he was mad as hell. He needed the attack on him. “It reeks. You don't even know good writing. That's why you're a teacher, right? Those that can, do, and those that can't, teach.”

He looked over at him, the pick still hovering near her eyes. “Listen to you, trying to get under my skin.”

“Yeah, it's not hard,” he commented. “See, I know all the trigger words. Second-rate, no talent, wannabe. Pretentious, overwrought, flop. I'm bored with you. I'm so bored with you and Edgar Allen Poe. What a trumped up piece of nothing talent he was. Loser morphine addict, and just as pathetic as you.”

He moved to stab Claire, and Ryan rushed him. He knocked Joe into a few boxes and then the wall, knocking him off center and going for the gun. The man rushed out of the room when he started firing at him. Claire had gotten a hold of the pick and the managed to get him out of his bonds. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she assured. “Kill him.”

Ryan ran, catching up while he went into a structure. He kicked the door and walked inside, going around slowly to find Joe. He moved around, waiting, when the man tackled him from the side. They fought over the gun, Ryan still having a grip on it. He squeezed off a shot, hitting a drum instead of Joe. The man got behind him and kept trying when he let another shot off, igniting the gasoline that had been coming out.

He eventually let it go, and was thrown close to some flames. Ryan picked himself up and punched Joe, keeping him off by keeping up the assault. He received a couple in response. Then he threw him into the flames, hoping it would work. He went to get him and finish, but a beam fell before he could move forward. He heard screams. He wanted to make sure Joe was dead, but he had to get out before the building collapsed on him.

He barely made it across when it exploded, debris flying everywhere. He just watched when he turned at Claire's scream. They embraced each other, relieved that the other was alive and Joe was gone. He took her back to the house, looking for anything he could use to call for help.

It took about a half-hour for locals to show. The fire crews started putting out the flames. Another local police officer started questioning them about what was going on. After they figured out who Ryan was, they generally just listened to him talk about Joe and a couple of Followers they needed to watch out for.

Turner didn't arrive until morning, along with his marshals and Mike. Coast Guard also joined in trying to see if they could find Joe's body in order to prove his death. Mike was the one to approach him while he watched their efforts. “ERT's coming the area, dive teams in the water. Partial remains,” he reported, walking back with him up to Claire.

“She mentioned a man, Neil Meyer. I want confirmation that's Joe's body they're finding.”

“We won't know until the official tests are done. Coroner confirmed a dental match.”

He figured. “Anyone contacted Beth?”

He nodded, “Quantico reached out to her. I called her a few minutes after their call. She's planning on coming up.”

“What about the rest of the followers?”

“Seven in custody. No Hill.”

Claire saw them and stood up to approach. “Is he dead? Did they find the body?” she asked.

“Yeah, what's left of him.”

“You're sure? You have to be sure it's him. Are you sure?”

“We'll have official confirmation soon,” Mike told her.

Turner interrupted their little moment, “Claire, I have a call for you. I think you'll want to take it.”

She took the phone from him. “Hello?” she greeted. Then she started crying and walking away as she talked to her son.

He turned back to them, mentioning, “Joey's in DC; the debriefing will start tomorrow.”

“I'm gonna take her back to my place, and we'll fly down first thing.”

He looked like he was going to argue that. He didn't. “I'll send some men with you,” he dictated. He walked off to follow Claire.

Ryan rotated to face Mike. “I know you're not okay,” he whispered, “But Claire also needs me. I'll meet you tomorrow and we can do something during the breaks from debriefings.”

He was still hurt from his move yesterday, but he didn't push him away. “Fine,” he muttered, moving over to a couple of agents to talk about evidence they had gathered.

Ryan was finally allowed to take her home close to nighttime. The agents that came with stood at the entrance of his building, stopping anyone that tried to get home. Claire wouldn't settle until she had confirmation that the body was Joe's and not Neil's. Ryan was on the phone with Turner for that reason. He hung up, then she asked, “Is it true?”

“Dental records, early DNA,” he listed, “He's dead.” After embracing and kissing each other, Claire went off to take a shower while Ryan ordered takeout. He had settled and was planning a nice night when the food arrived, and paid for by the agents. He tried to open the bag, not able to tear it and grabbing a knife to cut it, before he thought he heard another knock.

Checking, there was no one at the door and he walked back in to go back to the food. The knife was now missing. _Someone's inside._ He looked around and saw Molly standing behind him. She stabbed him as many times as she could before he fell. “You were always my chapter, Ryan,” she claimed, “Joe promised me I would be the one.”

She was manic; this was something she had been waiting for. Then, they heard something in the other room. Both had forgotten about Claire. “Okay, I smell food,” she proclaimed. Molly hid while the other woman walked out. She saw Ryan lying on the floor. “Oh my god, Ryan!” She rushed over, unsure of what she could do to help. Molly came back out and stabbed her.

“No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Ryan, Turner is now totally judging you for leaving your kid for the girlfriend.
> 
> Yeah, they basically figured it out. One more chapter to go.


	16. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after the final chapter. If your answer is season two, you forgot something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tissue warning. I teared up when writing this. 
> 
> Information spoilers for season 2.

Mike broke speed records trying to get to the hospital where they had taken Ryan. There were several times where he swerved a lot due to tears clouding up his eyesight. There would be no calming himself enough until he got to the hospital and found out what was going on. Turner was waiting outside, along with a couple of Marshals. “Ryan yelled loud enough to grab the attention of the two agents standing guard,” he reported, walking in, “He was with Matthews; both were stabbed by Molly, a neighbor of Ryan's. Matthews is dead. This Molly is a nurse; we've got people looking for her.”

“How'd she get away?” he questioned.

“We didn't have all the exits covered; the building had an old prohibition tunnel that isn't on the newest blueprints,” he said.

“Has Jenny Orson been called?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Turner regretted. He made it to a small room that had been set aside for the officers so they could watch over the patient. “Are the doctors telling us something?”

“Nothing, they're only releasing information to family,” one mentioned. There was nothing to do except to wait for any information that a nurse or a doctor would pass along.

One of the doctors came to check and see if someone of Ryan's relations had come. When all he saw were more agents, he walked back out. Mike went after him. “Doctor? Can't you tell us anything?” he implored.

“Only family,” he droned.

“Look, I just want to know how Ryan Hardy is doing,” he pleaded, “Please, all right, he's my Dad and just want to know how he is.”

“Come up with a better lie, Agent,” he dismissed, walking off. Mike should have expected that; they never listed each other on any official paperwork. Too much to lose from potential enemies, agents with political careers, and they would have never allowed the three of them to work on the case if they knew about their connection.

Right now, it was proving to be trouble. He had been with Jenny last time and she convinced the doctor in charge to let him into the room. Keeping his head down, he wiped at tears that threatened to form while walking out. He found an area that was far away from the agents, but within their sight so they wouldn't suspect anything.

He had to wait a few rings before the other side picked up. “Hello?” Jenny mumbled.

“Dad's been stabbed,” he croaked, clearing his throat, “Are you back from Miami? They won't let any of the agents know and none are going to believe about me.”

“Mike....”

“Please.”

She sighed, “Which hospital?” He waited outside for her and jumped up when she finally approached about fifteen minutes later. They didn't talk as both walked in. He held out his badge and got to the area where Turner was waiting. The doctor Mike had talked to was also there. “Jenny Orson,” she introduced, “Ryan Hardy's my brother.”

Glaring at Mike, he drew her into a separate room that was meant for families. They couldn't hear anything, but it only took a few minutes before he walked out to head back to the operating rooms. “There were a few stab wounds,” she told them, “It hit a couple of organs and there's a fair amount of blood lost. They're just getting to the end of his surgery. They say he's fine for now.”

“That's good,” Turner nodded. The rest of the agents went back to walking around, watching out for Molly or anyone else. 

Jenny pulled Mike into the family room and shut the door so none of the others could hear them. “Where's Debra? I remember her being one of the agents of the case. Why isn't she here?” she inquired.

_Mom._ He collapsed in one of the chairs and buried his head. She sat next to him. “Carroll planned it so she would be buried alive,” he whispered, “We didn't get to her in time.”

“Oh, God,” she muttered, reaching over and rubbing his shoulder.

-

They wouldn't allow anyone to visit until normal hours arrived. Mike was one of the first ones in when they did. Jenny went back home to sleep, although she promised to visit when her shift ended. He stayed as long as he could.

Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed. Being called back to headquarters, he was asked over and over again about the case. What went wrong, why didn't this end sooner? He tried to answer his best. His answers didn't tide them over. After three days of intense questioning, he was placed on mandatory leave for three months. He was given orders for therapy before he would even be considered for desk work.

Instead of heading to his first meeting, he went to Ryan's bedside. Jenny told him he had only woken up a couple of times, asking about Claire. He hoped he would wake up that day, but he didn't. He went back a couple of more times before having to go to a therapy session. It was a complete waste of time; he was more worried about getting back to Ryan and didn't answer questions as well as the psychiatrist would have liked.

He was walking to the room they had him in for the last few days when he saw Jenny standing outside. “What's wrong?” he asked, instantly worried.

“Nothing, the doctor wanted to check him out without any family inside,” she soothed. He nodded and sat down to wait for them to be allowed back in. After a few minutes, the doctor walked out. It was the same one that didn't believe Mike, and he ignored the two for walking away with his new information.

Jenny was the first one in. “They said I'll be able to make it out within a week,” Ryan reported, watching her move by his bed. Mike walked in, standing behind her and out of sight before getting enough courage to move closer. He immediately softened at the sight of him. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered. 

His father shooting at him still lingered in his mind, but Mike just lost one parent, almost lost the other again. He couldn't completely stay at the absolute top of his anger. “Hi, Dad,” he mumbled.

Jenny walked out at Ryan's unvoiced wish, and closed the door so no one would interrupt. “I'm sorry,” he apologized, “I'm sorry for shooting at you. I'm sorry for leaving you with Mom's body.” 

“You left me behind,” he gritted, “Joe was probably going to kill you and I just lost Mom and you left me behind.” He focused on wringing his hands to not cry. 

“I'm sorry,” he repeated. “Look, just.... sit down. Jenny was going to update me on progress with Debra, then we were going to talk.” Mike looked out the door before opening it to alert her and pulling up a chair to one of his sides.

Jenny walked back in and stayed on the other side of Ryan. She didn't comment on the tension between the two and just waited for what the subject was. “What is the plan for Debra's funeral?” he asked.

“She didn't leave any instructions,” she mentioned, “We don't want to bury her, considering the circumstances, but we don't know what she would have wanted. Did she mention anything special she wanted to happen?” She looked over at Mike as she asked.

He shook his head. “No, I don't, I don't remember her saying anything.”

“Right now, Beth's idea is a service before cremation and possibly scattering the ashes or buying a special urn. I think she might have wanted to be buried, but, I don't know about now.”

“Are you running into any problems with getting her body?”

“No, they're releasing her body to Beth when they're finished,” she stated, “Still running trace, someone claimed.”

“They won't want to release her until the case has died down,” Mike muttered. “Probably a few more days to a couple of weeks.”

Jenny nodded at the news. “I'll pass it on. We'll plan it accordingly.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Just wondering if you'll move.”

He groaned, “I don't know. I'm not even planning that far ahead.”

She huffed, “I'll see you later. I'm on the lunch shift for the next couple of days.”

“All right, see ya Jen.” She managed a half-hug before walking around and hugging Mike. She then closed the door so they would have privacy. Ryan turned over to Mike. “How badly have I screwed up?” he asked.

He breathed heavily, keeping most of his emotions back. “I....” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, “I just lost Mom. Joe probably had it planned to kill you as well. I could've help you. I could've gone with you and helped somehow. But you left me behind and I didn't know anything. Turner had to tell me about the boathouse and that you were still alive.” it took him a minute to calm down. “You cut me out. Not just after Mom, but your first move was to spend time with Claire. I was fucking alone; you left me alone.”

Ryan reached out and rested his hand against Mike's face, rubbing some of the new tears off. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. Mike bent over and buried his head against his father's side. There were only tears, no sobbing, no crying. He rubbed his shoulders and back, unable to do much else.

-

Parker's wasn't released for another two weeks. By the time it was actually delivered to the funeral home that was going to prep her for burial, Beth had decided, Ryan was out of the hospital. Mike was still being called in for debriefings and clearings, but he was staying around him for than not.

There was no way the older man was staying in the same apartment where Claire had died and he had almost followed. Jenny and Mike had cleared it out for him. Now he was staying in the guest room of his sister-in-law while trying to find another place to live off of his residuals.

A greeting wet nose told him he was going to have a visitor soon. “Drake,” he warned, the dog getting a little close to his papers.

“Drake,” a voice called out. It wasn't Mike calling to the dog. Max was waving a bone that she must have gotten from her cousin. The dog greeted the young woman and took the bone, gnawing on it. She looked up at her uncle. The black dress she had chosen for the funeral must have been newer than the one she wore a couple of years ago. “Mom and Aunt Jenny are downstairs with Beth,” she reported, “Mike's in the bathroom. You are reminded you have half an hour before we leave.”

“All right, thanks.” He organized the papers and placed them out of the reach of Drake before heading downstairs. Jenny, Beth and Max's mother Rachel were discussing something in the kitchen. Mike was still in the bathroom, trying to fix his tie in the mirror. “Hey,” he grabbed, motioning to let him get it.

“Thanks,” he whispered, turning so Ryan could see. The black suit had been purchased when he first entered the FBI, and it hadn't been used in a year. His eyes were already red and he kept them down so he wouldn't start again. He finished fixing his tie and placed his hands on his shoulders, unwilling to break contact for a minute. When they heard someone walking by, the two separated. Ryan walked out first with Mike following.

The church was mostly filled with FBI agents and marshals that had worked with her during the case. Turner made a beeline to Ryan before they were completely in. “Ryan,” he greeted.

“Turner,” he muttered.

“Most of the agents here know,” he revealed, “There was testing done after Parker's confession. Franklin ordered yours run as well.”

“Shit.” Mike was staying quiet, surprisingly. “Franklin?”

“Not taking it well. He talked to White, your former supervisor, who knew and helped you cover it up. Right now, there have been questions about whether or not anything legal to use on Carroll or any of the other members.”

“Why the fuck would that matter?” Mike hissed. “The knowledge wasn't known until after the fact.”

“We're preemptively thinking about what defense lawyers and others will come up with.”

“Is it in the press yet?” Ryan inquired.

“No, but after today, I wouldn't be surprised that someone doesn't print it,” he cautioned. He left after being called over by someone.

Tyson came up after Turner walked away. The marshal that had come along didn't look happy at their meeting. “Ryan,” he consoled. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I,” he muttered, taking the pat on the back.

He moved onto Mike. “Hi, Tyson,” he mumbled, hugging him tightly. He just held him for a couple of minutes before letting go.

He turned back to Ryan. “I unfortunately can't stay around for the visitation afterward. They're moving me since I'm mobile,” he explained. He nodded and they said good byes so they wouldn't have to search him out after the service.

The agents that came up mostly talked to Beth, although Mitchell also passed along to them. She hugged Mike before moving along to the pews. After they had mostly seated, the group went up to the first row, reserved for family. Two empty seats told them her parents hadn't arrived.

The priest went through the standard prayer before opening to those that wanted to come up and say something about Parker. Beth was first, talking about her sister, the one that had saved them from their parents, and the leader of the group they had been apart. Mike looked a little confused and Ryan figured he was going to have to explain about Debra's past with cults. A couple of agents stood up, those that had worked with her in ARU and during the case. Both spoke of her for the professionalism, courage, dedication to the field. Turner stepped up, just after Director Franklin. 

Once they were finished, Ryan went up. “I... don't know what to say,” he fumbled, “Deb and I met at college. We both studied in the same library room and several times were interrupted by other students that were more intent on getting caught with their pants down.” There was a couple of laughs from that. “After five or six times, I ended up inviting her over to my common room. Somehow we hit it off. About eleven months later, I was rushing her in to deliver a nine pound screamer.” There were a few more then. Mike was wiping tears but he shot up a look of mortification at him. Jenny rubbed his arm in comfort. “We stayed together for roughly ten years. When we decided we didn't work as a couple, we stayed friends, or tried to. When I met her back on the case again, we hit wrong, years of not talking and slight resentment build up. But we started working the way we did in the early years. She knew when to pull me back, and I knew when we needed to push forward. I'm not going to have someone like her again; there were things we knew about each other and habits that I won't get back. I'm going to be missing a partner and a friend. She was a great woman.”

The congregation applauded him as he stepped down and sat back next to Mike. “Hey, are you going up?” he muttered.

He nodded, and after wiping tears away again, walked up to the podium. Everyone turned their attention at him, and he almost faltered. “When I was deciding colleges, Mom wondered why I had certain ones at the top,” he professed, “I told her that I wanted to go into the FBI, like them. It was right after the Winslow murders, and Dad had basically been forced out. She wasn't happy with them and.... She told me about the things that she saw. The abusers, the rapists, murderers. Disgusting people and victims. The threats against her life, she used Dad as an example. She told me all the bad things, and I just repeated that I wanted to be an agent, and she asked why. I said, 'I want to stop the bad guys like you and Dad.' I don't know if she got it then, but she watched me enter the FBI, and then saw me go into different divisions before finally getting into the BAU. She was proud of me, and I think she knew that this is what I was supposed to be doing. She worried during the case, but I kept telling her what she told me. It's part of the job.” He sniffed to regain a little steadiness. “I wish she could have lived longer. I wish she could have possibly seen any hypothetical grandkids. But she won't, and I'm gonna miss her.”

He stepped down and sat down without looking at anyone else. Ryan wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. “Hey, you did great,” he assured, rubbing his arm.

The service finished, Beth and Rachel went early to get back to the house. Several of the agents weren't staying around, having to go back to their desk jobs. Director Franklin nodded to them before leaving himself. 

The house was filled with people that came after the services. The table that commemorated Debra had her FBI picture front and center, along with her badge, diploma and an award that lead to her ARU appointment. Pictures tacked around them held many family photos. Beth had scrounged up old drawings of her parents and them as young children. There were a few of Ryan and Debra, during their on times. Mike was in others, as a young child, high school, college, FBI graduation. 

Those that had followed after were now mingling amongst themselves. Several that hadn't talked to them before were now coming up to the pair over the revelations about Debra, offering their condolences. Mike experienced a little more than Ryan, considering his status of ex-boyfriend, but each receive a fair amount. Rachel kept busy, making sure the food laid out was clean and easy to get. Max was going around, sharing some of her stories of Aunt Debra. 

The visitation ended when other agents had to start leaving to get back to Quantico, marshals as well. Max and Rachel started parceling out leftovers for Jenny and Beth to take before cleaning up and getting ready for sleep. Ryan went up to the guest bedroom and changed out of his suit into something easier to sleep in.

His bed however, was not ready, due to a suspicious lump in the middle of the thing. He lifted up the covers to find Drake sleeping under the covers. “Why aren't you near Mike? You're his dog,” he complained, moving him slightly to get a better place to lie down. Once he was down, the lump moved to curl by his chest.

-

Beth couldn't do it. She stepped into Debra's home and left without being able to do much to pack up her sister's belongings. She called Ryan, wondering if he and his family could take care of it. The women wouldn't able to get time off, so Ryan came down on a weekend and met Mike, who came from another meeting with the therapist. The two of them brought out boxes and entered the apartment.

Their first hit was the living room. DVDs were separated between the two and packed away. Electronics were either claimed or placed aside to be donated. Sentimental items were boxed carefully, noted so that way they could go through them with Beth when she was ready. Once cleaned out, they separated to deal with the bathroom and her bedroom. Mike insisted he could deal with cleaning out her bedroom.

Ryan packaged several bottles, shampoos and cleaners that were probably going to go in the trash or re-purposed around the family. He recognized one of the scents and opened it to sniff. He lost himself in a memory and sat on the edge of the bathtub. He was remembering one of their first dates in clarity, the cheap movie, the bad popcorn.

Tears sprang up and rolled down his face. _Damn it. Debra._ He should have just packaged everything without opening. Every memory that came up made it harder to move. He wasn't crying; he hadn't been able to cry since his father's death. He let out a couple of tears for Ray, but it was mostly a couple of nights of drunken binges. He didn't wipe them away until he started remembering things about the case, then seeing her body on the ground, Mike desperately trying to get her to wake up. He had to force himself up and out of his melancholy to finish getting the rest packaged or trashed.

Done in the bathroom, he walked out and by the bedroom where Mike was cleaning. Instead, he was standing by her bed, holding a ragged stuffed dog in his hand. “Mike?” he carefully approached, moving in.

He looked up at Ryan and the man could see the tears not falling. “I gave it to Mom,” he mumbled, staring back down, “She admitted she felt like she would be lonely without me running around. So I found him and left it on her pillow before we left, so when she got back, she would read this note that said, 'I heard that you were lonely, so I came back out.' She called after she got it and laughed a little.” He walked over and stopped, unsure what to do. “I miss her.” Ryan watched him finally break down, his knees buckling. “I miss her.” He caught Mike up in a hug, squeezing him tightly and lowering them to the ground while he kept sobbing. “I miss her. I miss her. I miss them both and I can't....” Ryan closed his eyes over the change. _God, he's finally feeling the effects of both their deaths._ He started rubbing his back, but kept quiet. Reassurances weren't going to do much now. After about a minute, he thought he heard something.

“Please don't die,” he cried, “Please don't die. Please don't die. I can't lose you, too.”

That set Ryan off, adding his own tears in the mix. “No, no, Mike, shh,” he whispered, “Don't think like that. Come on, you know I'm not going to die until I'm ninety and yelling at nurses in a home.” It was intended to calm him down, but it didn't work as well as he had hoped. Instead, he just clung to him. “Okay, I don't think we can do anything else today. Come on, we're going to go to your place and settle for the night before attempting to finish tomorrow.” He led Mike out, locking the doors and driving back.

After playing with take out and watching a couple of Mystery Science Theaters on Netflix, Ryan watched Mike finally fall asleep, curling up next to him with the dog in one hand and the other holding onto his arm. He grabbed his phone and found the number Jenny saved a while ago before dialing and waiting for someone to answer. 

“Doctor Beekly's office.”

“This is Ryan Hardy, I need to make an appointment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You read this 'til the end?
> 
> Wow, congratulations. And thank you.
> 
> Also, say Ray's wife's name first, then his name. I did not mean to do that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Following Problem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7890685) by [GachMoBrea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GachMoBrea/pseuds/GachMoBrea)




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